"Hey, idiot! Get out of there!"
The shout echoed through the empty basketball court, followed by the unmistakable sound of a ball hurtling toward Ethan’s head.
He barely had time to flinch before the basketball collided with his skull, sending him stumbling backward onto the cold concrete. His vision blurred, and his head throbbed in pain.
Laughter erupted from the group standing near the court’s edge—Mike and his friends, their mocking grins wide as they watched Ethan, sprawled out on the ground like a fool.
"Look at him!" one of Mike's friends called out, his voice laced with cruel amusement.
"Can’t even dodge a ball!"
"Stupid, pathetic loser," another chimed in, their laughter making Ethan’s ears ring.
The floor beneath Ethan’s hands was gritty and dirty, and he wiped his forehead with his sleeve, feeling the sting of embarrassment heat his cheeks.
He had been cleaning the court, doing his job as part of his work-study program.
But clearly, Mike and his crew had other plans.
Groaning, Ethan sat up and looked around the court.
The sweat on his face mingled with the dirt from the floor.
His body was aching, and his pride was bruised. But he pushed through the pain.
“I just finished cleaning,” he muttered, wiping his hands on his worn-out shirt.
“The court’s closed. You guys need to get out.”
Mike, who was grinning like he had all the power in the world, stepped closer.
His tall frame towered over Ethan, casting a shadow over him.
"You heard him, boys?" Mike said, turning to his friends.
"He thinks he’s the boss of this place!” he mocked Ethan.
One of Mike’s friends, a skinny guy with a crooked smile, scoffed and stepped forward.
"A beggar ordering us around? Who does he think he is?" he sneered, his eyes narrowing with contempt.
"I don’t care who you are." Ethan swallowed hard, trying to keep his composure.
His voice was shaking but determined.
"I just cleaned half of this court. If you mess it up, I’ll have to do it all over again."
The words seemed to enrage Mike and his gang.
They looked at each other with shared disdain before Mike’s expression shifted into one of dark amusement.
"Well, that’s a problem, isn’t it?" Mike’s voice was low, menacing.
He reached forward and slapped Ethan hard across the face.
The force of the blow sent Ethan sprawling onto the concrete once more, blood spilling from the corner of his mouth.
“Akh,” Ethan could only groan in pain.
"You poor thing... That’s your fate if you have to clean this entire field. I don’t care about you!" Mike’s voice was cruel, his words a reminder of the power he wielded over Ethan.
Before Ethan could react, Mike’s friends joined in.
They kicked his body, one after another, their laughter filling the air.
His stomach twisted with pain as their feet slammed into his side.
Every hit made his vision grow darker, but he held back tears, clenching his fists as he lay there.
"Get up," Mike spat, his face inches from Ethan’s.
"You really think I care about some poor kid’s job? I’ve got better things to do. Now, get out of here!"
Ethan struggled to push himself to his knees, his body aching, but he didn't want to leave.
He needed the money he earned from his work-study job.
“I’m not leaving,” Ethan said, trying to find the strength in his voice.
"I’m responsible for cleaning this court.If you make a mess, I won’t get paid. Do you want me to lose my job?"
Mike sneered, his eyes narrowing as he flicked his head toward Ethan’s battered form.
“You don’t get it, do you?” Mike said, his voice sharp with irritation.
"I’m the richest kid at this school! I do whatever I want. And today, I’ve got business to attend to."
Ethan’s heart skipped a beat.
He looked around, seeing the other boys nodding, as if confirming something.
Mike took a deep breath and grinned wickedly.
"I’m going to confess to a girl today, and I don’t need you messing things up. So, you better get out of here. Now!"
The words hit Ethan like a punch to the gut.
His stomach twisted with unease, but he knew he couldn’t argue. Mike wasn’t going to listen.
And if he pushed back, he might lose his job entirely.
The group erupted in laughter again, mocking Ethan, calling him names like "poor loser" and "worthless beggar."
Then, without another word, they shoved him roughly to the side, ordering him to stay in the corner and clean up after they were finished.
Ethan stumbled, clutching his stomach, and retreated to the storage shed nearby.
He was in pain, his face throbbing, but he couldn’t let them see how much he was hurting.
He was determined to get through it. After all, this was just one more day in his miserable life.
Inside the shed, Ethan sat on the edge of an overturned bucket, trying to catch his breath.
He wiped the blood from his lips, feeling the sting in his skin.
The commotion outside grew louder, and Ethan could hear the shouts of “Say yes!” and “Kiss her!” as if the whole school was anticipating a dramatic confession.
Ethan hesitated for a moment before pushing open the warehouse door, curiosity getting the better of him.
He stepped outside, hoping to catch a glimpse of the momentous event.
His heart hammered in his chest, the pain from the earlier beating still throbbing through his body.
But when he looked toward the basketball court, he froze. His eyes widened, and the world around him seemed to tilt on its axis.
There, in the middle of the court, was Melissa—his girlfriend—locked in a passionate kiss with another man.
A rush of anger and confusion swirled in Ethan’s chest, and for a moment, he couldn’t breathe.
His hands clenched into fists, and his mind screamed for him to stop them, to make them pay for the betrayal that was unfolding before his eyes.
Without thinking, Ethan rushed forward, his legs carrying him across the court.
"Melissa!" he shouted, his voice breaking through the noise of the crowd.
“Oh, shit! What is this idiot trying to do here?”The shout cut through the air, sharp and mocking. Ethan’s heart hammered in his chest as he ran toward them—Mike and his cronies standing near the edge of the basketball court, their attention already drawn to him. A pit of dread formed in Ethan’s stomach, but he pushed through, his mind filled with nothing but the need to confront Melissa. She was there, among them, and something didn’t sit right. He had to know what was going on.Before Ethan could take another step, one of Mike’s friends, a stocky guy with a cruel smile, stepped forward. His arm swung in a wide arc, slapping Ethan hard across the face. The sound of skin meeting skin rang out, and Ethan staggered to the side, his cheek stinging from the impact."You really want to ruin this for Mike?" the guy spat, stepping closer, his breath hot and sour. "I told you how important this confession was, you idiot! What the hell are you even doing here? You’re just a cleaner! You
“You’re fucking bastard!!” Mike’s voice rang through the air like a thunderclap, his fury palpable. His face was red, and his eyes burned with rage. He pointed directly at Ethan, who was already reeling from the blows he had taken moments before.Mike’s cronies were circling Ethan like sharks, their fists flying mercilessly. Ethan stumbled, his vision blurry as pain radiated from his side. A cruel punch slammed into his stomach, forcing him to his knees. The thud of their fists hitting flesh, mixed with the mocking laughter of the gang, filled the basketball court."Get up, loser!" Mike spat, his words dripping with venom. "I told you not to mess with me!"Ethan groaned, blood dripping from his mouth, but he pushed himself up, his eyes glaring defiantly through the haze of pain.“I’m not going to back down, Mike,” Ethan muttered, though his voice wavered with exhaustion.Mike’s anger only increased. He turned to his friends, gesturing violently for them to continue. "Beat him dow
Ethan came out of the police station in confusion, his mind swirling with unanswered questions. As the cool evening air hit his bruised face, he blinked in surprise, noticing a middle-aged man standing near the entrance. The man was staring directly at him, his posture calm yet purposeful. It took Ethan a moment to recognize him."Uncle Steve?" Ethan asked, his voice filled with uncertainty. Steve Jackson, his neighbor's uncle. Ethan's brow furrowed in confusion. “Ethan. Glad to see you’re alright.” Steven smiled warmly."Uncle Steve, what are you doing here?" asked Ethan. “Did you… did you pay my bail?"Steven chuckled softly, shaking his head as he offered a slight bow."No, Ethan. It wasn’t me. But I’m here to take you to someone who did."Ethan’s confusion deepened.“Wait, what do you mean? Who—”“Come with me,” Steve interrupted, gesturing toward a sleek black car parked nearby.The car gleamed under the streetlights, its luxury unmistakable. Ethan's heart skipped a beat. Th
Ethan stood there, frozen in place, trying to figure out what he was seeing. When his dad wore a perfectly cut suit, he gave off an air of power and authority that Ethan had never thought of him having. The man in front of him was nothing like his father, who had always seemed modest and normal. This was a different man, one who felt at ease in the mansion's luxurious surroundings.“Dad?” Ethan’s voice trembled with disbelief. “What... what are you doing here?”His father’s face softened with a smile, though his eyes held a gravity that Ethan had never seen before. “And why are you dressed up like this?” Ethan asked him, as his dad dress looked expensive.“Ethan, there’s so much you don’t know. So much I’ve kept from you, and for that, I owe you an explanation.”Ethan stared, bewildered, as his father gestured for him to take a seat. Ethan looked at his father with wide eyes as he motioned for him to sit down. He did what he was told. The warm floor of his cell had been hours be
Ethan stood in the lavish living room, the weight of the golden bank card pressing against his palm. His mind was a whirlwind of questions, the biggest being Who is Lisa Barrett? His future was now tied to a woman he knew nothing about, and though the thought of her stirred a flicker of curiosity—Was she beautiful? Kind? Spoiled?—his gaze shifted back to the bank card.Money, he thought. Money changes everything. The memory of endless humiliation, the constant weight of struggling just to get by, flashed through his mind. All those times he’d been belittled and beaten down, just because he wasn’t rich. Now, he held the power to change it.Just as Ethan was about to ask his father more, his father’s phone rang. Ethan’s father’s expression changed, a flash of urgency in his eyes.“I’m sorry, son. There’s an emergency I have to attend to,” his father said, his voice quick and businesslike. “For now, you’re free to do whatever you want.”Ethan watched his father disappear through th
Ethan’s eyes narrowed as he refused the bill. “I’m not here for your charity. I came to make a withdrawal.”The guard snorted, pulling back the ten dollars and pocketing it with exaggerated slowness. “Right. Then maybe try the ATM outside, buddy.”Ethan’s lips curled into a tight smile as he met the guard’s gaze head-on. “And what if I told you I’m here to withdraw one million dollars?”For a moment, the guard looked taken aback, then burst into laughter that drew the attention of a few onlookers. “One million?” he repeated, struggling to contain his amusement. “You’re joking, right?”Ethan’s expression remained calm, but there was fire in his eyes. “Is there a reason why that’s so hard for you to believe?”The guard snorted, his laughter bordering on scorn. “Because I saw you pull up on that rusty scooter outside,” he replied, his voice dripping with condescension. “One million dollars? That’s a good one. Do you think we’re all idiots here?”Ethan’s face reddened, and he coul
CHAPTER 8The guard stood there, still rubbing his reddened cheek, staring at the manager in shock and confusion. “Sir… why did you slap me? He’s just some nobody on a cheap scooter bike!”The manager’s eyes narrowed, his expression darkening with each word. He glanced out the glass doors at the sleek, streamlined scooter parked outside. Then, without warning, he delivered another stinging slap to the guard’s face.“Are you blind, or just incredibly stupid?” the manager snapped, his voice dripping with disdain. “That ‘cheap scooter’ you’re so eager to mock is made of carbon fiber! Do you have any idea what that means?”The guard’s eyes went wide, struggling to grasp the manager’s words. “Carbon fiber?” he echoed, his voice faint.“Yes, carbon fiber!” The manager shook his head, his voice laced with contempt. “That’s not some regular run-down scooter from a junkyard. That machine costs at least a hundred thousand dollars!”The guard’s mouth fell open, and he stammered, “A hundred
Ethan stepped out of the bank, feeling the weight of his worn bag filled with cash. Just as he climbed onto his carbon-fiber scooter, his phone rang. Glancing at the screen, he saw it was his roommate.“Hey, Ethan, where are you?” his roommate asked. “Class started, and the professor’s already taken attendance. You know how he gets.”Ethan’s heart dropped as he checked the time. He’d completely forgotten his lecture in the commotion at the bank. “I’m on my way. I’ll be there in a few minutes,” he replied, kicking his scooter into gear and racing toward the college.He arrived at the classroom, slightly out of breath, his bag slung over his shoulder. As he stepped in, every head in the room turned to him. At the front of the room, Professor Whitmore, a man with a perpetual scowl and sharp eyes, paused his lecture, his lips curling into a condescending smile.“Well, well,” Professor Whitmore sneered, eyeing Ethan. “Look who decided to join us. The class’s star latecomer! We’re s