When Oliver's eyes locked onto Professor Hamilton, his heart skipped a beat. His confident stride faltered, and a cold sweat prickled the back of his neck. His eyes widened in shock, and his face drained of color as the reality of the situation hit him. He had walked right into the lion's den. His mouth went dry, and for a moment, he was rooted to the spot, unable to move or speak, his thoughts raced as dread settled in the pit of his stomach.Professor Hamilton was the last person Oliver wanted to see in this situation. This professor has always despised him, and has never been shy about his disdain for Oliver's scholarship. He has always been desperate to see him fail, especially now that he was in the running for the best student award of his cohort. The memory of how Professor Hamilton had schemed to strip him of the Best Student of the Year award, handing it instead to Harry, still stung deeply. He has been so clear in his preference for Harry and in his contempt for Oliver.
The classroom buzzed with anticipation, and Oliver knew exactly what was happening—this was a deliberate attempt to make him fail. But he couldn’t back down, not with his academic future on the line."Do you agree to these terms?" Professor Hamilton asked with a smug smile on his face.Oliver swallowed hard, knowing he had no real choice. "Yes, sir," he replied, his voice steady despite the pressure. He had to face whatever came next, no matter how unfair it was.Meanwhile, as Professor Hamilton announced that he would allow Oliver to retake the test, the class buzzed with whispers and smirks. The rules were outrageous, and everyone knew it.A 60-mark test in just 20 minutes, with no chance of appeal, and marked by one of the students—this was a setup, and the entire class was thrilled about it."Finally, he's going to get what he deserves," Harry muttered under his breath, loud enough for those nearby to hear.Professor Hamilton smirked at Harry's comment, his intentions no longer con
Professor Hamilton's announcement sent a wave of shock and murmurs rippling through the class. Students exchanged glances, some in disbelief, others in anger, but the professor remained indifferent, his expression cold and unyielding. He continued, his tone dripping with a cold finality, announced, "The highest donor will be the best student in my course." He paused, letting the shock settle in before adding with an air of absolute authority, "And my decision is final."Despite the rising tension and the clear discontent, he seemed utterly uninterested in their protests, his focus solely on the twisted plan he had set in motion.Students argued in disbelief and anger, their voices clashing in heated debate. "This is ridiculous! How can you judge us by money and not our work?" one student shouted, slamming his hand on the desk."Yeah, this is completely unfair! We’ve worked hard all semester!" another added, her voice trembling with frustration.It seemed as if everyone was in disagr
The air in the room grew thick with tension, every breath held in anticipation as eyes darted from one face to another. Who could have possibly outbid the mighty Harry? The classroom, once a sea of murmurs, had fallen into a heavy silence. The tension was almost suffocating, with each student on edge, their hearts pounding in their chests as they awaited the professor’s next words.Professor Hamilton, visibly shaken and almost reluctant to speak, glanced down at the paper in his trembling hand. He swallowed hard, his throat dry as the words seemed to stick. The silence stretched on, unbearable, as if time itself had slowed to a crawl.Finally, with a voice that barely held together, he forced out the name that would shatter the room’s expectations. "The number one donor is... Oliver Howard, who donated $50,000!"His voice cracked, the words almost strangled as they left his lips. The shock was evident, rippling through the room like an electric current. Gasps echoed off the walls,
Three days later, on a Friday, Oliver was wrapping up for the week at work. It had been an eventful and stressful week, filled with challenges that had left him mentally and physically drained. As he left his office, the exhaustion weighed heavily on him. All he wanted was to relax, perhaps have a drink or two, and cool off his mind after the long, grueling days.He made his way to his car, his thoughts were already on where he might go to relax. But just as he was about to reach for his car door, he felt a tap on his shoulder. Startled, he turned around, only to be met with a blur of motion as someone threw themselves at him in a warm, passionate hug. The weight of the embrace nearly knocked the wind out of him, and he staggered back, struggling to regain his balance.Oliver was stunned, surprised, and shocked all at once. He had no idea who this person could be. He instinctively tried to pry the arms off him, wanting to see the face of the person who had so suddenly invaded his pe
Oliver and Anita had barely settled into their VIP space when Mr. Smith walked through the door. The moment Oliver saw him, a sinking feeling took hold in his gut. This was not going to be pleasant. To make matters worse, Mr. Smith wasn't alone—he had a lady with him, and Oliver could already foresee the drama that was about to unfold.Mr. Smith had always harbored a deep-seated hatred for Oliver, a grudge that had only intensified after their last confrontation at the office, where Oliver had fired him and relieved him of his duties. That moment had been the pinnacle of their enmity, and Mr. Smith had made it clear that he would seek revenge. Seeing him here now, at the Luxor, would only mean that the retribution Mr. Smith had planned was about to begin.Anita, sensing Oliver's unease, leaned in closer and whispered, "What's wrong?"Without taking his eyes off Mr. Smith, Oliver replied in a low, tense voice, "It’s about to get messy."Mr. Smith, spotting Oliver in the VIP section,
Oliver remained unnervingly calm as Mr. Smith's voice escalated, his threats echoing through the luxurious hall of the VIP section. His demeanor was as steady as a still lake before a storm, showing no hint of the tension burning beneath the surface. The more Mr. Smith ranted, the less Oliver seemed to react, his composed expression only further fueling Mr. Smith’s fury.Mr. Smith sneered, his voice thick with venom. "You act like you’re above it all, like you own this place, you think everyone else is just as deceitful as you?"The other customers, were now turning their heads, their curiosity piqued by the growing commotion. Some whispered among themselves, while others watched intently, their food momentarily forgotten.Oliver, sensing the perfect opportunity to twist the knife, leaned back in his chair, his expression calm. "Well, Smith," he said with a casual shrug, "if you must know, I own this place."Mr. Smith froze mid-rant, his eyes narrowing as he processed what Oliver had
The tension in the air was electric, thick and oppressive like a storm cloud ready to burst. The other guests, who had been observing the escalating situation with a mix of curiosity and skepticism, began to murmur amongst themselves, their voices tinged with both anticipation and judgment."Serves him right," one diner whispered, barely hiding a smirk. "He must be out of his mind to go up against someone like Mr. Smith.""Foolish, really," another chimed in, shaking their head. "He’s asking for it. The manager’s going to toss him out on his ear, just wait and see."The whispers grew louder, with some even casting pitying glances at Oliver, while others openly mocked him. "He has no idea who he’s dealing with," one person commented with a sneer. "Smith’s a regular here, practically untouchable. That guy is done for."Anita, sitting beside Oliver, could feel her heart pounding in her chest. She was visibly fidgeting, her fingers nervously tapping on the edge of the table. The thought