Revenge of The Furtive Billionaire Heir

135. A letter.

I do not have experience with letters.

In the digital age where it’s so much freakin easy just to send someone a message through some app or social media or even an email, people do not tend to send each other letters unless they’re trying to adopt some sort of quirky aesthetic to their life, be old-school or are some old companies that still believes in sending clients their bills by paper.

No one really sends letters these days, in fact, I can’t remember the last time I got a letter in the mail, with stamps and an envelope and all.

So, imagine my surprise when one of the members of my father’s security team comes to me as I’m walking to the door hurriedly slinging my school bag over my shoulder, knowing that I’m bound to be late for my first class if I get stalled. The blame for this tardiness lies squarely on my shoulders, of course, it does, because I’m the idiot who forgot I had class today because I was too busy with my girlfriend. The only reason I even remembered I had class w