Paul's fist flew at my face. I ducked just in time, the blow sailing past my ear. Laughter rang out from his cronies watching nearby.
"Come on, fight fair!" Paul taunted. Before I could react, his foot hooked around my ankle. I crashed to the ground, gravel biting into my palms.
He loomed over me, features twisted in ugly determination. This wasn't just a prank - he wanted to hurt me.
I scrambled up, holding my hands out placatingly. "Paul, think about this. We'll both get expelled if you keep-"
His punch slammed into my gut, knocking the wind out of me. I doubled over in pain as the gang cheered him on.
"Yeah, not so smart now, are you?" Paul jeered. He shoved me down again. I lay there gasping, glasses cracked and askew.
This was pointless. I had to get away. Ignoring the fiery pain in my side, I staggered to my feet and backed towards the school, never taking my eyes off Paul.
With a savage grin, he glanced around and picked up a heavy tree branch, testing its weight. My blood ran cold.
"Get back here, coward!" he yelled, stalking towards me. Adrenaline flooded my veins. I turned and ran, Paul's enraged shouts at my back.
I sprinted blindly through the darkness, lungs burning, my whole body aching. Finally, I collapsed behind a storage shed, clutching my bruised ribs. For several terrified minutes, I sat frozen, listening for any sign of Paul's approach. Only silence greeted me. They must have given up the chase.
Gingerly, I examined myself. Cuts and scrapes covered my arms and face. My right side was blossoming into a mass of bruises. Each breath sent stabs of pain through my chest.
"Did you miss me?" growled a familiar voice in my ear. Before I could react, vice-like hands clapped onto my shoulders, steering me forcefully behind the dumpsters.
Paul's smug face swam into view. "I believe we have some unfinished business," he said, cracking his knuckles ominously. Benjamin and Charles stood guard, cutting off any escape.
I backed against the brick wall, eyeing them warily. "Go ahead, keep beating me up. We both know it won't change anything." My voice was calmer than I felt.
A flicker of doubt passed over Paul's features. Then his mouth twisted in a sneer. "We'll see about that." He drove his fist into my ribs where bruises were already flowering. I choked back a cry, doubling over.
The onslaught came like hailstones. Blows rained on my hunched body as I slid to the ground, struggling to shield my head. Their laughter swirled around me, blurring with pain.
After what felt like hours, the beating suddenly ceased. I lay there in a daze, dimly aware of their retreating footsteps. A light rain began to fall, mingling with the blood trickling down my face. Was this how I would die - alone behind a dumpster? The injustice of it choked me worse than any blow. I had survived so much just to be put down like an animal.
As the downpour strengthened, cold droplets slapped my skin, granting clarity. I wasn't dead yet. Wincing, I took stock of my limbs - bruised and battered, but intact. This wasn't over.
I crawled out from my meager shelter. Nearby, muffled voices reached me over the rain's steady pattern. Limping towards the sounds, I turned the corner to see three shadowy figures arguing.
Even from a distance, Paul's furious tone was recognizable. "I don't care what you say, his kind needs to learn their place..." The words died on his lips as they noticed my approach.
Charles's eyes widened in disbelief. "That's impossible. You should be in the hospital by now!"
Paul whirled, shock morphing into caution. "Stay back! This is a personal business." The words were brave, but uncertainty tinged his voice. Their confidence was shaken by my refusal to stay down.
I stepped closer, palms raised peacefully until a sudden wave of dizziness sent me sinking to one knee with a cry. Sharp pain lanced through my ribs where bruises bloomed.
The gang exchanged a nervous glance. Paul cleared his throat cockily. "Let that be a lesson to you. Come on guys, our work here is done." They turned to leave.
At that moment, Paul's foot slipped in the mud. Arms flailing, he toppled with a shout of surprise, crashing down the embankment. A sickening crack echoed over the rain's steady pattern.
Everything froze. Even the raindrops seemed to pause mid-air. Then slowly, as if in a dream, I rose and made my way to where Paul lay ominously still, his companions hovering anxiously nearby.
Paul was unconscious, blond hair matted with blood. His leg bent at an unnatural angle. My breath caught at the damage wrought by cruel chance in an instant. Our eyes met for a split second before his fluttered closed again.
My enemy was now completely at my mercy. His lackeys watched fearfully, anticipating the reprisal they knew he deserved. But sinking to his level would make me no better.
Kneeling in the mud, I felt gently for his pulse, then inspected the bleeding gash on his brow. "He has a concussion," I announced. "Charles, run alert the nurse. Benjamin, help me get him inside. Hurry!"
The gang shared a conflicted glance before following my instructions. Together we carried Paul's limp form through the downpour towards help, the budding trees seeming to bow in solemn witness above us.
Rain pattered softly as we carried Paul's limp body towards the school. His head lolled with each hurried step, eyes closed, face deathly pale beneath the crimson streaking his blond hair.
My own bruises throbbed in protest, but adrenaline kept me going. Paul's friends walked alongside, uncharacteristically silent. This wasn't how our clash was supposed to end.
We laid Paul down just inside the doorway. His leg bent unnaturally where he had landed hard after the fall. I pressed gingerly on his ribs, eliciting a faint moan. Possible internal injuries.
"He needs an ambulance, now," I said. The others just stared, frozen by the sobering sight of their invincible leader brought low.
Seeing I was alone in this, I sprinted to the nurse's office, bursting through the door in a panic. Her annoyed expression shifted to alarm as she took in my battered appearance.
"There's been an accident," I gasped out. "Paul Auclair is hurt badly. He needs an ambulance."
She paled but quickly grabbed her kit. "Show me to him." I led her back to where Benjamin stood anxiously over Paul's motionless form.
Kneeling, the nurse examined him expertly before glancing up at me. "You did the right thing. I'm calling an ambulance - he has head trauma and a possible spinal injury."
As she hurried off, I sank down beside Paul, backpack as a pillow beneath his head. His breathing seems shallow. Blood still seeped from the gash on his brow.
Guilt and confusion churned within me. I should feel vindicated seeing Paul like this after everything he'd done. Instead, I just felt hollow. Our feud seemed so pointless now.
In the distance, sirens wailed, growing louder. Soon flashing lights bathed the entrance in red and blue as EMTs hurried in with a stretcher. Their brusque efficiency was a relief.
They swiftly immobilized Paul in a neck brace and loaded him aboard. One lingered, inspecting me closely. "You should get checked out too, kid. Anything hurting?"
I started to refuse, then reconsidered. Keeping watch over my unconscious tormentor suddenly seemed a penance I must undertake. "My ribs," I admitted.
Too exhausted to resist, I followed him back to an exam room. He tended carefully to the lacerations and bruises mottling my body, taking under his breath. I said nothing to jeopardize Paul.
After wrapping my cracked ribs, he brought me a change of clean clothes. I managed a few hours of precious sleep in a dim recovery room before voices outside stirred me.
The steady beep of the EKG machine punctuated the stillness in Paul's hospital room. I sat slumped in the chair at his bedside, watching his chest slowly rise and fall. Nearly two days had passed since the accident that left him comatose, with no indication of when he might wake up. The sound of the door opening made me look up as a disheveled man hurried in - Philippe Auclair, Paul's father. His bloodshot eyes were lined with worry as he moved to his son's side. "Any change?" Philippe asked hopefully, though his expression fell as I shook my head. "No, he's been like this the whole time. But the doctors think he could wake up soon." I studied Philippe's worn features, sensing the weight on his shoulders. Philippe sank into the chair next to me with a heavy sigh. As the youngest Auclair son, he was never prepared to lead the family biz. And Paul, as the baby, was even less ready to step into that world. In the short time since we met, Philippe has word-vomited his whole life sto
As soon as I entered this private millionaire meeting, I recognized some faces from business magazines and news interviews. But more importantly, Paul's relatives were all here - uncles, aunts, and cousins who are executives in the company. There was Richard Auclair, Philippe's older brother and current President of Auclair Hotels. He's expanded their portfolio of five-star properties across Europe. His other brother Claude Auclair is the Executive Vice President of Casino Operations, overseeing the company's global chain of luxury casinos and entertainment venues - we're talking Vegas on steroids. Then there's Juliet Auclair, Philippe's sister, who runs Auclair Cruise Lines as Chief Operating Officer. Under her leadership, they've cornered the high-end cruise market with over-the-top luxury liners. And of course Auguste Auclair himself, the founder and current Chairman of the Board. At 80 years old, he still runs the empire with an iron fist. Seeing all Paul's accomplished re
Slipping away to an empty hallway, I leaned against the wall and took a deep breath. My clothes suddenly felt constricting, as if I had been playing dress-up in someone else's skin all night. I longed for the comfort of my own shabby, but honest, life once more. After what felt like endless Mingling, I finally detached myself from the Auclairs, desperate to escape before I was exposed. As I was leaving, Philippe grabbed my shoulder tightly. "Thank you again for everything tonight." I met his gaze solemnly. "I hope you figure a way out of this situation you've created." I paused. "Paul's condition is still very delicate, even if the doctors try to sound optimistic..." Philippe's face clouded with worry. "You're right. But I couldn't destroy the one shred of hope my father still has in me and my family. Paul has never gotten any love from the rest of them." I sighed. "Enough excuses. I expect the agreed-upon payment in my account by tomorrow morning." Philippe looked taken aback
The pungent scent of antiseptic hit my nose as I walked through the dingy halls of City General Hospital alongside my grandmother. The wheelchair I pushed creaked and rattled over the cracked linoleum tiles. This had become our dreary routine - three times a week I'd help Gram get to her physical therapy appointments. Not that the sessions seemed to be helping much. If anything, her health only deteriorated more rapidly. "How are you feeling today, Gram?" I asked gently as we waited for the elevator, trying to sound upbeat. "Oh, just fine dear," she said, giving my hand a light pat even as she struggled for breath. Her skin was paper thin, blue veins starkly visible. But her eyes still held a spark of lively spirit. The elevator groaned as it carried us up to the third-floor therapy wing. Sanitized, clinical - this place was worlds away from the warmth of family. But it was all we could afford. I helped Gram out of the wheelchair and onto the exam table, where her therapist soon
My phone buzzed, the screen flashing an unknown local number. Likely a telemarketer. I almost sent it to voicemail before reconsidering - it could be the hospital with an update about Gram. “Hello?” I answered cautiously. “Adam, thank god," came Philippe Auclair's strained voice. "I've been trying to reach you. How did you get this number?” I asked sharply. Philippe cleared his throat. “My assistant looked it up, but that's not important now. Why are you working with my niece Agatha?" I bristled at his intrusive tone. "That's none of your business. Our arrangement doesn't concern you." "Look, you don't understand how dangerous she is," Philippe pressed urgently. "Agatha has no good intentions getting involved.” I gave a harsh laugh. "And you do? At least your niece is honest about what she wants." Philippe sputtered indignantly. “Now see here, I only had the family’s best interests at heart...” “Save it,” I cut him off. “I'll stop working with Agatha when you can pay me even h
The next day, having some time before my next "appointment" with the Auclairs, I decided to do additional research on the family and their business empire. Details were important if I wanted to play the heir apparent convincingly. Wrapped in the back corner of the library, I opened my laptop and began searching for information about the famously reclusive family and Auclair Company assets. To my annoyance, unambiguous facts were scarce. Searching through business journals yielded mainly vague corporate announcements: the acquisition of a new premium hotel chain here and the arrival of elite cruise line ships there. Dry remarks celebrating expansion and profit reveal nothing about the empire's leaders. There are no enlightening descriptions of the executives assisting Auguste Auclair in building his empire from the ground up. His children, Richard, Claude, and Juliet, were hardly more than names mentioned in passing about whatever venture they currently oversaw. Philippe Auclair mi
The day I was supposed to go golfing with Auguste Auclair and his millionaire business partners had arrived. Philippe and I carefully planned to continue the farce of me impersonating his son Paul. My attire had to be flawless—an expensive polo, fashionable sunglasses, and even a light self-tanner—to achieve the desired wealthy golden boy appearance. Examining my appearance in the mirror, I noticed a tiny resemblance to the arrogant jerk Paul. But I instantly dismissed the unpleasant idea. Auguste's desire to golf in the winter seemed weird to me, but Philippe explained that it was primarily an excuse for the tycoons to gather and gossip freely. I'd have to try to insert myself into their private chats. Philippe trained me on country club culture and news about Auguste's social circle to help me play my role conv
Everything appeared blurry as I walked through Wellington Prep's groomed grounds. Despite the familiar surroundings, a feeling of anxiety settled over me. The air felt heavy, and no one else was around. Someone emerged from the mist and began to approach. As he got closer, my breath caught. It was Paul Auclair, alive and well, with his trademark arrogant grin. "Well, if it isn't my favorite scholarship rat," Paul remarked as we stood there assessing one another. "Come to kneel and kiss my ring." I looked at him warily. Paul was in a coma in the hospital when I last checked. What was he doing walking around school, taunting me as he often did? "What's going on, Paul?" I asked cautiously. "Why are you here now? Aren't you..." Paul's expression darkened, and his grin turned into a scowl. "Shut up!" "As if you care after everything you've done." He made a frightening approach to me. I raised my hands in confusion. "Have I done everything? "What are you talking about?" None of this m
I stared up at the ceiling, How long had it been now since that fateful Christmas dinner where this whole charade began? Four months? Five? The days and weeks had blurred together into a hazy torrent of deception and performance. Back then, posing as the unconscious Paul for a single evening had seemed like an adventure - a crazy but harmless way to earn some quick cash. Just one night of playacting among strangers, and then back to sweet normalcy. I never imagined how catastrophically wrong things could go. How that single impulsive decision would warp my life into a waking nightmare.Now here I was, trapped indefinitely in the role of an entitled aristocrat halfway across the world. Forced every moment to speak, walk, and think as Paul Auclair. My own identity buried so deep even I struggled to find it in the rare quiet moments like this. I wondered sometimes how the real Paul was faring lost in the darkness of his own mind. Did some part of him sense my clumsy attempts to imper
When Agatha finally paused for breath, I looked up. "I won't do it anymore," I stated bluntly, the words surprising me with their calm finality.Agatha blinked, momentarily caught off guard. "Won't do what, darling?" I met her gaze with new steadiness. "Pretend to be Paul. Lie to Dominic, to everyone. I'm done." The decision filled me with courage. For the first time in ages, I felt free.Agatha stared, then burst into laughter. "Done? You foolish boy, as if you have any say in the matter." Her voice hardened. "You will do exactly as I tell you."I shook my head calmly. "No. Find someone else for your schemes. I'm leaving." I spoke simply, but certainty resonated through me. Agatha's eyes narrowed sharply. "Let's make one thing clear - you have no say in this arrangement.” she said, “Your only role is to obey." I shook my head, weariness giving way to anger. "No, I'm done with your stupid games. Find some other lackey."Agatha stepped closer. "You ignorant fool. Do you really think
The rhythmic thump of the punching bag soothed my frantic mind. Sweat stung my eyes, a welcome distraction from the constant performance that was my life. Focused silence calmed my constant anxiety. Straightforward punches and kicks were a comfort - no tricks, just sweat and discipline. For a few hours, I forgot the daily charade.But pretending around Egon returned quickly. "Hey Paul," he'd call out casually, breaking my normalcy.Paul. Each time he said it, my nerves throbbed. Patience vanished, though I knew Egon didn't get it. I wanted to scream - I wasn't Paul, never would be. Just an unknown imposter trapped in this torture."Where's the fire, huh? You've been going at it like you're about to fight Tyson himself." Egon chuckled, oblivious to the storm brewing inside me."Just blowing off some steam," I mumbled, trying to maintain the facade. But the pressure was building. every forced interaction felt like another brick added to the wall of lies that threatened to crush me."Tha
The next evening I sat pretending to watch TV, muscles wound tight as a spring. Dominic had gone out to some dinner commitment blessedly solo, leaving me momentarily unbothered.Agatha got into the living room and casually muted the noise before resting on the sofa's armrest. I braced for her latest plan, but she simply studied me in silence instead, absently twirling a lock of my hair.After an endless tense moment, she spoke up calmly. "You know, jealousy really doesn't suit you." I raised my head. "What? I'm not jealous," I remarked unconvincingly. My ears burned under her stare.Agatha just smiled. "Please, I see the way you look miserable lately. Afraid you're no longer the center of my attention?" She asked the question lightly, but her eyes were piercing.I chose my answer carefully. "I just don't care for whatever weird game you two are playing with me, that's all." She tilted her head. "Game? I promise you, Dominic and I are very in love. Isn't it only normal to show affect
Keeping distance proved impossible in the sleek apartment. Dominic remained a constant energetic presence over the next few days, telling me colorful stories whenever we crossed paths, despite my obvious lack of interestI would give nice smiles while walking away as soon as possible. Yet Dominic seemed totally unfazed by my reserved attitude, only calling for me to join next time. Agatha watched these conversations with subtle enjoyment that set me on edge.At night I lay awake listening to their muffled words through the wall, unable to escape the sense I was the butt of some unspoken joke between the two. Dominic's deep booming laugh particularly irritated me.On the third night, my patience ran out. I sat on the couch trying to distract myself with a school book, even though the words blurred without meaning.Heavy footsteps announced Dominic's approach before his hulking body suddenly filled the space beside me. I flinched involuntarily at the closeness. He gave no sign of notici
The next morning I came carefully from my suite, unsure what to expect after last night's tense standoff with Agatha. Part of me wondered if she had already left in anger at my defiance.But the smell of fresh coffee drew me toward the kitchen. There I found Agatha sitting casually at the counter, scanning news headlines on her tablet as if nothing were wrong.She glanced up as I entered, one perfect eyebrow raised. "There are fresh croissants if you'd like some," she said kindly as if we were merely polite roommates.I paused, caught off guard by the way she behaved after our fight just last night. Agatha's composure gave no hints, and I fought to get straight."Uh, sure thanks," I managed, moving slowly to the counter piled high with flaky golden cakes. My hunger defeated nervousness as I snagged one and took a bite. Still warm, and delicious.Agatha smiled smugly over her coffee cup at my obvious pleasure. "I had them brought from the best bakery in the city. Only the best, of cour
Back at the sleek modern apartment, I wearily dumped my gym bag by the polished door and kicked off my shoes. The glow of electronic screens and downtown lights streamed through floor-to-ceiling windows overlooking the dark valley below. I headed straight for the gleaming kitchen, fishing a sports drink from the fully-stocked stainless steel fridge. Gulping it down, I allowed the cold liquid to rehydrate my drained body. Intense karate training always left me ravenous.Rummaging through cupboards produced a stash of protein bars. I eagerly tore one open and took a huge bite, ignoring manners. I had built lean muscle over weeks of exercise, but my appetite seemed bottomless now. Leaning against the black granite counters, I quickly wolfed down another bar, the sweetness hitting my starved taste buds perfectly. A third fruity bar swiftly followed. Only after devouring half the box did I finally feel sated enough to slow my intake.Wiping sticky hands on my sweatpants, I headed to my l
Despite my dramatic exit from the karate studio, I found myself drawn back a few days later. As much as I hated admitting it, getting some sort of training was better than moping around doing nothing. And with Egon as the instructor, I knew the class wouldn't involve silly kid stuff. I slipped in just as the evening session was starting, avoiding eye contact with Egon up front. The rest of the students gave me curious looks but said nothing as I took an open spot at the back. Egon raised an eyebrow when he noticed me but made no comment. "Let's begin," he simply said, before leading the class through an intense warm-up routine. I pushed myself to keep up with the others, not wanting to show weakness. The lesson covered basic punching and blocking techniques. I focused on copying the moves precisely, forgetting my surroundings. The repetitive motions were oddly soothing.Afterward, I lingered while the other students filtered out. Egon walked over, arms crossed. "You planning on ma
Over the next few days, fighting became my single focus as I trained intensely for a rematch against Egon. I barely glanced at my old phone, ignoring Philippe's check-ins about Gram's health as well as his vague texts. I also strongly ignored Agatha's questions when I constantly went to train. My sessions with Egon entered a stage where I drove myself past the point of exhaustion each time. Nothing felt hard enough - I added punishing cardio and agility drills outside of our planned strength training. My body rebelled with aches and fatigue, but I pushed even further. Redemption against Egon occupied my every waking thought. I had to be better prepared this time and show that our first bout was a fluke. Only a total win in a rematch would satisfy the competitive flame I had stoked within myself.My body had become a weapon forged from pure desperation, the soul within consumed by a single driving purpose - to force the respect of others through dominance. Pride and rage-fueled me lon