The Pauper Who Ruled the Campus

Chapter 5: The Silent Billion

Marcus stepped through the doors of the grand hall, the thumping bass of the music hitting him like a wall. The place was packed. Lights flashed across the ceiling, students danced in clusters, and the air smelled of expensive perfume and excitement. The moment he appeared, heads turned.

Whispers spread fast.

“Isn’t that the guy who got expelled?”

“Why is he still on campus? Security must have forgotten to drag him out.”

Laughter followed. Someone shouted, “Go home, scholarship trash! You don’t belong here anymore!”

Marcus heard every word. He kept his face calm, eyes forward, and walked straight toward the table where Freya, Victoria, and Emmanuel sat. They waved him over, concern still lingering on their faces from dinner.

As he reached the seat, the program coordinator climbed onto the stage, microphone in hand.

“Ladies and gentlemen, please give a huge welcome to our special guests who have just arrived—Baron Thorn, Jackson, and their crew!”

The sentence was barely finished before the hall exploded. Students jumped to their feet, screaming names, clapping, singing along to the sudden blast of music the DJ dropped. Baron strode in like royalty, suit perfectly tailored, watch glinting under the lights. Jackson matched him step for step, smug grin in place. Thalia clung to Baron’s arm like an accessory, her dress shimmering, diamonds catching every light. The girls around the hall sighed openly, wishing they could trade places.

The group made their way to the VIP section, waving like celebrities. The energy in the room doubled. The DJ kept the music flowing, matching the wild cheers.

Once they were seated, the program coordinator returned to the stage.

“Tonight’s participants in the donation challenge, please come forward for introductions!”

Names were called one by one. Each student walked up, waved, received applause. When the introductions ended, the coordinator waved them all to line up at the front.

Marcus stood.

Emmanuel grabbed his arm quickly. “Sit down, man. We were joking earlier. Don’t go out there and embarrass yourself.”

Marcus looked at him, calm. “I’m not joking. I’m going out there to donate the highest amount.”

The students seated nearby overheard. Laughter burst out immediately.

“Yeah, right. With what? Your lunch money?”

“Bro thinks he’s about to drop millions!”

Marcus ignored them. He walked forward, joining the line. More laughter followed. Someone yelled, “He’s donating his poverty-stricken life! That’s worth at least ten cents!”

The mockery grew louder as he reached the group. Baron and Jackson spotted him instantly.

Baron raised a hand. “Security! Get this guy out of here. He was expelled today. He has no business participating in any event.”

Two guards started toward him, expressions hard.

Before they could reach Marcus, the massive screen behind the stage flickered to life. A video played—the school chancellor himself, face solemn.

“We, the administration of Elite-Star University, sincerely apologize to Marcus for the erroneous expulsion notice issued earlier today. The matter has been fully resolved. Marcus remains a full student in good standing. We regret any distress caused.”

The video ended.

Silence fell for a heartbeat, then murmurs rippled through the crowd.

Jackson’s face twisted. He marched to the program coordinator and whispered sharply. The coordinator nodded, then returned to the microphone.

“Due to… special circumstances, we will now group the participants into five teams. Marcus will be placed alone, as no other student has volunteered to join him.”

More snickers.

The donations began.

First group: $100,000.

Applause.

Second group: $80,000.

Polite claps.

Third group: $150,000.

Cheers.

Then came Baron and Jackson’s group. The hall went wild before they even entered the donation room. Students chanted their names, phones recording every step. They disappeared inside.

When they emerged, both wore triumphant smiles. They sat side by side, arms crossed, certain of victory.

Marcus was next.

As he walked toward the donation room, a voice shouted, “Don’t steal the money the rest of us donated, poor boy!”

The hall roared with laughter. Mockery rained down.

“What’s taking him so long? Counting his coins?”

“He probably crashed the system trying to transfer five bucks!”

Marcus stayed inside longer than anyone else. Complaints started.

“Come on! We don’t have all night!”

Finally, he stepped out, a small, quiet smile on his face.

The laughter renewed. “Look at him grinning like he did something!”

The program coordinator returned to the stage, holding the final tally.

“First group: $100,000.”

Claps.

“Second group: $80,000.”

“Third group: $150,000.”

Then he paused, eyes widening. He let out a short laugh before continuing.

“And the final group—Baron and Jackson’s team—has donated a record-breaking $1.6 million! Breaking last year’s record! Jackson personally contributed $500,000, and Baron contributed $600,000!”

The hall erupted. The DJ dropped the loudest track yet. Students danced, screamed names, threw hands in the air. Baron and Jackson stood, soaking in the glory.

After the music died down, the coordinator raised the microphone again.

“Now, for the solo participant, Marcus…”

He paused, then chuckled again.

“Marcus has donated $150.”

The room exploded into laughter. Phones flashed. People doubled over.

Freya covered her face with both hands. Victoria and Emmanuel sank lower in their seats, cheeks burning.

The coordinator continued, barely containing his amusement.

“With that, we declare Baron Thorn the top student donor of Elite-Star University, and Jackson the second! As part of their award, the top donors will have the honor of selecting the new ESU social president.”

Baron took the microphone. He gave a long, mocking speech—jabs at Marcus, jokes about “poor boys dreaming big,” laughter from the crowd at every line.

Then he smiled.

“I choose my girlfriend, Thalia Shade, as the new social president.”

Thalia walked to the stage, beaming, hugging Baron and Jackson as they received their remaining awards—plaques, trophies, gift cards.

As the main award was about to be handed to Baron, the side door opened.

The school chancellor himself stepped onto the stage.

A stunned hush fell over the hall. In all the years of ESU fundraisers, the chancellor had never once appeared.

He strode forward, took the microphone from the program coordinator, and—without a word—slapped him across the face.

The sound echoed.

“Remove him,” the chancellor ordered.

Security dragged the stunned coordinator away. A new one hurried onstage, pale and nervous.

The chancellor nodded to him.

The new coordinator cleared his throat.

“Before we proceed, I must correct a grave error.”

He turned to the screen. The numbers appeared again.

“Marcus has donated $2 million.”

The hall went dead silent.

Then gasps. Whispers. Eyes wide.

Students who had mocked him stared in disbelief.

“Where did poor Marcus get $2 million?”

“How?”

Freya’s hands dropped from her face. Victoria’s mouth hung open. Emmanuel blinked rapidly.

Baron and Jackson froze on stage.

The chancellor stepped forward, voice booming.

“This fundraiser is now officially closed. And let this be a lesson—never underestimate anyone.”

Marcus sat quietly at his table, expression unchanged, while the entire hall struggled to process what had just happened.