The Rise Of The Orphan Billionare

The bleach smell still clung to Nelson’s hands. No matter how hard he scrubbed, no matter how much soap he used, the stink of last night’s janitor shift seemed tattooed into his skin. He slid into class quietly, praying no one noticed.

“Nelson Cassius,” the teacher’s voice cracked across the room, “late again. What happened this time? Lost your mop?”

A ripple of laughter burst through the class. Someone mimed scrubbing the floor. Another coughed out, “Janitor boy!” The noise rolled over him like waves, and Nelson’s cheeks burned. He dropped his gaze, clutching his bag tighter.

He spotted an empty seat. Finally. He started moving toward it —only for a hand to slam down on the desk.

“Don’t even think about it. That’s taken.” The boy sneered, eyes daring Nelson to argue.

Nelson froze, his throat tight. He turned, searching again, when a soft voice called from the corner.

“Psst… Nelson. Sit here.”

Jane. Kind-eyed, always a little too nice for her own good. He managed a small smile and sank into the seat, whispering, “Thanks.”

For forty minutes, he endured whispers and giggles, each one digging into his skin. When the bell rang, the teacher dismissed them with a wave. As students rushed out, the announcement system crackled.

“Attention students —reminder, carnival party this Saturday! It’s gonna be fun. Don’t miss it!”

Cheers filled the room. Nelson just packed his books silently. A carnival? With what money? He barely scraped by. Still, he thought of Rachael, his girlfriend. Maybe she’d want to go. Maybe, if he saved a week’s pay, he could buy her ticket. She was the one reason he kept going.

Because yes, the teacher had been right. He had spent the night scrubbing toilets. Then the bakery. Then back to his tiny room to collapse for two hours before dragging himself here. He worked two jobs just to afford basic food, clothes —and whatever Rachael needed. Tuition was covered by scholarship, thank God. Everything else? His back paid for it.

He was halfway down the hall when the familiar mocking tone froze him.

“Hey, janitor boy.”

Nelson’s body went stiff. Kyler Park. The name was enough to sour anyone’s stomach. Kyler, son of Mr. Park —CEO of Catelux Corporation. Richest kid in the school. Richest family in the city. Girls trailed after him. Boys either worshiped him or feared him. He never faced consequences; Daddy’s lawyers saw to that.

Nelson turned, hoping to just keep walking. “Not today,” he muttered.

“Oh, it’s today.” Kyler’s grin widened. Two of his friends flanked him like bodyguards. “We’re trying to be nice. Help you out. Take you from the trash.”

Nelson clamped his jaw. “Don’t answer. Don’t give them reason. Just walk.” he whispered to himself.

But Kyler shoved him hard. His books scattered. The hallway tilted, but Nelson caught himself, refusing to fall. Laughter erupted.

“What’s the matter, janitor boy? You deaf?”

The second shove was worse. Then the punch to his jaw snapped his head sideways. Pain exploded, bright and hot. For a heartbeat, Nelson swore he’d swing back. He was strong —he knew he could floor Kyler and his crew if he wanted. But then he pictured his grandmother’s face, lined with years of struggle. If she heard her grandson was now a violent kid? It would break her.

So he straightened, his eyes burning, fists trembling but at his side. He looked Kyler dead in the eye. Silent.

Suddenly, like a godsent, Mr. Ham, the computing lecturer, turned the corner. “Everything alright here?”

Kyler’s grin returned, sharp as glass. “Of course, Mr. Ham. Isn’t that right, Nelson?”

Nelson’s throat closed. He forced the words out. “Y… yes, sir.”

Mr. Ham nodded and walked off. Kyler leaned close, whispering, “Lucky. This time.”

They strolled away, leaving Nelson’s insides twisting.

Miguel and Robby, his only real friends, caught up with him moments later. Robby frowned. “Man, you look like a depressed owl. They did it again?”

Nelson didn’t answer. He just pressed his tongue to his split lip, tasting blood. But Miguel’s fists clenched. “Let’s find those assholes. Make them regret it.”

“No.” Nelson’s voice was quiet, but firm. “It’ll be us who get blamed. Always is. You don’t want to start a war you cannot fight.”

He shoved his books into his bag. “I just need to find Rachael. She hasn’t answered all day.”

They trailed him toward the science building. Rachael’s friends were there —Tory, the venomous one, and Samantha, who at least had some conscience.

“Tory. Samantha. You guys seen Rachael?” Nelson asked, trying to sound casual. “She hasn’t responded to my texts all day.”

Tory’s laugh was sharp. “Our friend doesn’t want trash like you anymore. Stop infecting her with your poor disease.”

Nelson flinched, but kept his eyes on Samantha. “Please. Just tell me.”

Samantha hesitated, then sighed. “She’s in the science lab. But… she’s busy. Having fun. Don’t ruin it.”

Fun? Nelson blinked. She had told him she was swamped with her project. He’d even given her money for it —money that cost him three nights of no sleep. So what fun was she having? Was she having ‘fun’ with the project? 

He left the girls and went after her. “Stay here” he motioned to his friends. But they wouldn’t bulge. 

As soon as Nelson got to the door of the laboratory, he grabbed the doorknob to open the door. But he paused a bit. He did not hear sounds of students working on anything. No sounds of lab equipments like beakers or metals or boiling liquids. No. All he heard was faint laughter and soft moaning coming from what sounded like just two individuals. Not more. 

Curious, he twisted the doorknob and pushed the door open. Nelson's world froze as he stepped into the lab. He watched in horror as he saw what seemed to be a knife to his throat. 

He felt like he'd been punched in the gut 200 times and more. His breath caught in his throat. There she was… his girlfriend… Rachael, sitting on a table, half-naked, moaning like she was in heaven. And just in front of her was…. 

Kyler. Kyler Park. They were kissing? No, having sex? 

“Rachel? What fuck?!!” He suddenly screamed.