They Will All Bow To Me!

Chapter 9

The night had come.

The dormitory of Michael and his friends buzzed with excitement, tension, and the faint hum of electric anticipation. It was finally here—their final year party.

The graduation ceremony had taken place that morning, but the night event was the real deal. Every year, it was the ultimate social battlefield—where students flaunted wealth, confessed love, took revenge, or humiliated rivals for the last time before stepping into the real world. It wasn’t just a party; it was the final reckoning.

Barry and Jace sat on their bunks, scrolling through social media feeds of other students bragging about their luxury outfits.

One guy was boasting about a seventy-grand shoe.

Another flaunted a forty-thousand-dollar shirt.

Several girls were posting videos with purses worth more than what the three friends had spent combined.

Jace sighed, sinking deeper into his bed. “We’re finished,” he muttered. “We’ll be the joke of the year.”

Barry chuckled dryly. “Relax, man. Let them have their moment. After tonight, we’ll never see them again.”

But Jace couldn’t help himself. His thumb scrolled one more time—and froze.

On his screen, a familiar face appeared live. Jane Scott. Michael’s ex-girlfriend.

Her voice filled the small room as she posed in front of a mirror, her tone dripping arrogance. 

“Everyone should just stop bragging already,” she said with a smirk. “None of you can even breathe the same air as me tonight.”

The comment section exploded. Hearts. Flames. Cheers.

Jane smiled wider. “My outfit tonight isn’t just expensive—it’s historic. The Caesar Bracelet—custom-made, ultra-limited, worth a hundred million. Chanel’s latest nine-only edition bag and shoes—ninety million. And my new futuristic anti-aging beauty set—one billion. Total package? 1.19 billion dollars. Courtesy of my boyfriend, Danny Franchester.”

The room went silent.

Someone in the comments asked, “What about your ex, Michael? What’s he wearing tonight?”

Jane laughed so hard she almost fell off her chair.

“Michael? Please. That loser probably won’t even show up. Not after trying to rob Neon Wears with his broke band of thieves. Honestly, Mikel should’ve let Charger finish them. Would’ve done everyone a favor.”

Laughter filled her live feed. Hundreds of comments followed, mocking Michael’s name.

Barry quickly leaned over and closed the stream. “Hey, turn that off,” he muttered. “No need to ruin his mood.”

But Michael didn’t even flinch. His calm was unnerving.

He simply looked up from the bed, eyes half-shadowed under the dim light, and said quietly, “Let her enjoy the spotlight. Tonight, the truth walks in gold.”

Barry and Jace exchanged confused glances.

Michael’s lips curled into a faint smile. ‘Tonight,’ he thought, ‘she’ll finally realize who she lost. When the CEO of Elite Inc. shows up, Danny will be done, and Jane will be stripped of every stolen luxury she parades around in.’

He smirked silently. ‘She better bring an extra pair of shoes, because she’ll be walking home barefoot.’

Barry and Jace noticed Michael murmuring to himself, but they assumed he was fighting through the pain of heartbreak. They tried to lighten the mood.

Barry opened his bag, shaking his head at the cheap shirts and shoes they had bought earlier. “Well, at least we’ll match,” he joked weakly.

Michael smiled faintly. ‘If only they knew.’ In his heart, he had already promised himself—when he claimed his inheritance and took his place as a Scofield—his friends would rise with him.

“Let’s wait a bit before leaving,” Michael said suddenly.

“Why?” Jace asked.

Michael only smiled. “You’ll see.”

Moments later, there was a knock at the door. Barry groaned. “Who’s it this time? Probably someone here to mock us.”

He swung the door open—and froze.

Standing outside was Mira, radiant in a simple black dress, and beside her was none other than Tiffany Styles—the country’s most famous celebrity stylist.

Jace’s jaw dropped. Barry stumbled backward. “No way… Tiffany Styles? Here?”

Tiffany walked in gracefully, her aura commanding the small room. “You boys are lucky,” she said, glancing around. “I got a call I couldn’t refuse—not for money, but for the name involved.”

Barry blinked. “Name? What name?”

Tiffany didn’t answer. Mira smiled softly and handed Barry a small folded note—the one Michael had written earlier.

Barry unfolded it and read aloud:

“From your anonymous friend who saved your ass.”

Signed simply, M.

Barry and Jace froze. Their faces changed instantly.

“Mikel,” Jace said bitterly. “It has to be him. He’s not done with us—he’s planning to humiliate us at the party.”

“Yeah,” Barry agreed. “He’ll probably make us wear these, then reveal it’s all part of a joke.”

They turned to Michael, suspicion in their eyes. “Was it you?”

Michael just smiled, saying nothing. His silence only deepened the mystery. Mira, watching him, could barely contain her amusement. She admired how effortlessly he played the game—how even his closest friends couldn’t read him.

Barry sighed. “Fine. Let’s just play along. If Mikel wants to make us his clowns, we’ll deal with it.”

“Good,” Michael said simply. “Then let’s get ready.”

Tiffany clapped her hands. “Alright, gentlemen. Let’s begin.”

What followed was transformation.

Tiffany and her team unpacked luxurious outfits—handmade suits, imported fabrics, diamond-studded accessories, and fragrance oils reserved for billionaires.

Michael’s look: a golden-yellow suit, light-blue silk shirt, and a long, shimmering gold coat lined with blue satin. Polished yellow shoes and a glittering $2 million Rolex to finish it off.

Barry and Jace had similar designs in unique color themes. The mirror barely recognized them when they turned to look.

“Holy… we look like movie stars,” Jace gasped.

Barry laughed in disbelief. “No—we look like gods.”

Just then, Jace frowned. “But how do we get to the party like this? In a taxi?”

A soft knock came again. A man in a sleek uniform stepped in. “Gentlemen, your cars are ready.”

They rushed to the window—and froze.

Parked outside, lights gleaming under the moon, were three hypercars:

A 2025 Bugatti Veyron

A 2025 Bugatti Chiron

A 2025 Bugatti Tourbillon

Each worth at least fifteen million.

The street outside had erupted—students were already crowding around, cheering, filming, and whistling. Phones flashed. Voices screamed.

“Who the hell are they?”

“No way! Are those students?”

“That’s a Tourbillon! Oh my God!”

Inside, Barry and Jace stood frozen, their mouths open. Mira covered her lips in disbelief. Tiffany smiled knowingly.

Michael adjusted his tie in the mirror, calm as ever. “Gentlemen,” he said, glancing at his reflection, “shall we?”

Then he turned to Mira. “You’re coming with me.”

Mira blinked. “Me?”

“Yes,” he said simply. “You’re my date tonight.”

The air around him seemed to shift—calm, confident, royal.

Outside, the crowd screamed louder as the doors opened and the golden light from the hallway spilled out.

Tonight was no longer just a graduation party.

It was the rise of Michael Scofield.