Chapter 3

The crowd erupted in laughter.

The pain was excruciating, radiating through every part of my body as I lay helpless on the cold ground. 

I tried to stand, but my legs gave out beneath me, my muscles too weak and beaten. 

Mikky’s lackeys had done their job well, keeping me pinned while their fists and feet drove the point home—I was nothing compared to him.

Around me, the crowd cheered with satisfaction, enjoying every second of my humiliation. Not a single person stepped forward to help.

 They were entertained, not concerned. I felt completely alone, battered and broken, struggling to catch my breath.

 I turned my gaze, trying to find Diana, hoping for a glimmer of sympathy—anything that showed she still cared, even a little.

But there she was, arms folded, a smug smile on her face. 

She was proud of this. Proud to see me beaten, and humiliated like an insect beneath Mikky’s feet. 

My stomach churned, but not just from the physical pain—it was the emotional betrayal that crushed me. 

I loved her, and she was standing there, watching me suffer, enjoying every second of it.

Mikky wasn’t done either. He was basking in the moment, savoring the dominance he held over me. He lifted his leg and kicked me again, his shoe slamming into my side with brutal force. I groaned, my vision blurring as pain surged through me.

“Teach this pauper a lesson,” Mikky commanded, his voice filled with arrogance and satisfaction. “He should know there are people he shouldn’t cross the line with.”

His goons obeyed, raining down more punches and kicks, at least they would be paid.

I could barely move, my body curled up in a pathetic attempt to shield myself. Then I saw her—Diana—running over to Mikky, not to stop the beating, but to comfort him. 

“Bae, are you okay?” she cooed, brushing her finger tenderly over the small bloodstain on his lip. They embraced, and in that sickening moment, I realized I was nothing to her. All I ever was—a stepping stone. 

She used me and just like tissue, she discarded me afterwards. 

Suddenly, the crowd began to disperse, I heard them whisper “Mr. Martins is coming” sending them scurrying like rats. 

My heart lifted, for a moment with relief. The director would stop this. He had to.

Mr. Martins approached, his eyes scanning the scene with his usual stern expression. 

He looked at me, beaten and bloody on the ground, and then at Mikky, standing tall with Diana wrapped around him.

 I struggled to sit up, hoping he would finally bring some sense of justice to this nightmare.

But then I saw it. The look in his eyes wasn’t one of concern—it was admiration, for Mikky, like he has been controlled.

“Mr. Coker, are you alright?” Martins asked, completely ignoring my battered state. His tone was soft, almost reverent, as though Mikky was the victim here.

Mikky shrugged, he had that cocky smirk on his face. “I’m fine, sir. But this... this busboy,” he spat the word with disgust, “attacked me out of nowhere. I was just defending myself.”

I couldn’t believe what I was hearing. I forced myself to my feet, wobbling slightly but determined to speak up. “That’s not true! He’s lying! They attacked me—” Pointing fingers at Mikky and his minions.

“Enough!” Mr. Martins barked, cutting me off. His gaze turned cold as he looked me up and down. “You’ve been nothing but a nuisance, Jordan. Stirring up fights with students like Mr. Coker here... Do you have any idea who his father is? How much has he done for this school?”

My heart sank. This wasn’t about what was right. It was about money. 

Mikky’s father was one of the school’s biggest sponsors, and that meant Mikky could do whatever he wanted without consequence.

“But, sir—” I tried again, desperation clawing at my throat.

“You’re suspended,” he said bluntly, his voice final and unyielding. “A month. I don’t want to see you on this campus until you’ve learned how to behave properly.”

Suspended? For what? For defending myself? For standing up to a bully? For being beaten mercilessly?

 I tried to plead, to explain, but Mr. Martins had already turned away, his attention back on Mikky like I never existed, smiling and chatting as though nothing had happened.

I stood there, bruised, humiliated, and completely powerless. Diana didn’t even glance in my direction. 

She was still wrapped around Mikky, laughing softly at something he whispered in her ear. The crowd had scattered, but the damage was done.

 My reputation was ruined, my dignity shattered, and my future... uncertain.

Mikky and Diana strutted away in his car, he winked at me, basking in their victory, not a care in the world for the wreckage they’d left behind. 

I stood there, trying to hold on to the last shreds of my pride. But what was left to hold on to? 

“What a loser… trying to stand up to Mikky? What was he thinking?”

“He’s pathetic, going after a girl that’s way out of his league.”

“I heard he’s just a busboy at some cheap restaurant. No wonder she dumped him.”

“I don’t blame her. Who’d want to date a broke busboy like him?”

The murmurs of the remaining bystanders twisted the knife deeper into my heart. Their words clung to me like poison, sinking into my skin and making every step heavier, every breath harder. 

I didn’t know how I managed to drag myself away from the scene, but I did.

I couldn’t stay here any longer after all I had been suspended. My head bowed low as I limped out of the school grounds, each step heavier than the last.

Just as I was about to leave the gate, a low hum caught my attention.

 I looked up to see a sleek, brand-new white Rolls-Royce pulling up right in front of me.

 For a moment I forget the pains I felt, and its sleekness doused them with admiration. Confused, I stopped in my tracks. 

The vehicle was too polished and too expensive for a place like this. 

The car door opened, and several men stepped out. They were dressed sharply, their suits pristine and tailored. I froze, my body still aching, unsure of what was happening. 

They approached me, their movements swift and deliberate and they bowed in respect.

One of them, tall and broad-shouldered, approached me with a respectful nod.

“Master Jordan,” he said, his voice deep and composed. “We’ve been waiting for you,” he said, his tone respectful, almost deferential.

I blinked, my mind still reeling from everything that had just happened. 

"What? Master Jordan? Who are you?" My heart raced. I’d never seen these men before in my life, yet they acted as if they knew exactly who I was. 

The man didn’t answer directly. Instead, he gave a small bow and gestured toward the car. “We’ve been expecting you. Please, come with us.”