Part 3The Maybach Lie And My Billion Dollar Reveng

The chat exploded with cheers, dozens of screens flashing with “Thank you, Stellar Industries!” and “Best surprise ever!”

Many of the quieter students posted with excitement, detailing how the money would relieve their family stress and allow them to focus purely on their studies.

I was on the list, too.

After an attempted kidnapping when I was a child, my father had insisted I maintain a low profile, so I was officially registered as a regular student, technically qualifying for the aid.

Just then, two jarring messages cut through the noise.

Braden Miller: “@ClassRep @ProfessorMartin I think this list needs a second look, don't you? Some students clearly do not meet the ‘disadvantaged’ criteria, and some have serious moral issues. Giving them scholarships would be an insult to the donor’s intent. @IsabelleVaughan.”

Piper Reynolds immediately backed him up:

“Braden is right! Scholarships are for hard-working, needy students with good character! Some people are riding around in Maybachs and collecting poverty aid. That’s gross! I suggest we revoke @IsabelleVaughan’s eligibility, for the sake of integrity!”

The previously festive atmosphere in the chat instantly froze.

A few seconds later, someone tentatively posted:

“…Honestly, Braden has a point.”

“Izzy doesn’t look like she needs financial aid…”

“And the character issues… that’s a bad look.”

I stared at the screen, a profound exhaustion washing over me. I didn't even have the energy to argue.

I typed, then hit send:

“I voluntarily forfeit my eligibility for this scholarship cycle. I wish everyone the best.”

Then, I muted the group chat.

The silence lasted less than two minutes.

Piper Reynolds’ private message window started flashing wildly.

I opened it. It was a selfie: Braden Miller, turning his head, kissing Piper on the cheek.

Piper’s smile was saccharine, the caption cruel:

“Braden says some people are born low, only fit to look up at other people’s happiness from the gutter. Oh, and I forgot to tell you—Braden’s not only top of the class, his family’s old house is in the new development zone. He’s major up-and-coming stock, babe. Some gold-diggers must be kicking themselves right now, huh? Too bad, you didn’t measure up.”

I looked at the smug photo and the vicious text, completely unmoved. In fact, I felt a faint urge to laugh.

I didn’t reply with a single punctuation mark. I blocked the number and deleted the contact.

Clean. Decisive.

The day of the relief fund distribution ceremony arrived.

My father, as the CEO of Stellar Industries, was scheduled to speak at the university auditorium, which was packed with over thirty thousand students.

I was submitting my transfer application paperwork to the advisor’s office and purposefully walked the long way around the main auditorium. Still, I ran right into Braden and Piper on a side corridor.

“Well, well. Said no to the scholarship, but you’re still hanging around? Isn’t your sugar daddy giving you enough allowance?” Braden sneered, looking me up and down with open contempt.

I didn’t want to engage and tried to step past them.

Piper suddenly lunged forward, blocking my path, her voice shrill:

“Isabelle Vaughan! How dare you show your face here? If it wasn’t for you, Braden wouldn’t be getting judged by everyone! You did this to him!”

“Move.” I said, my voice cold.

“Apologize to me!” Braden suddenly grabbed my wrist, his grip painfully tight.

Piper stoked the fire beside him:

“Braden, why are you being gentle with her? A tramp like this needs a lesson! Scratch her face off! Let’s see her try to seduce old men now!”

Then, Braden seemed to completely lose control.

He violently shoved me against the wall. Piper jumped at me too, her sharp nails aiming for my face and neck.

“Bitch! You think you’re so great! I’ve been waiting to do this to you.”

“I’ll beat you up! See if you can keep acting so pure!”

“Tear her clothes off! Let everyone see what she really is!”

I fought back desperately, but my fever-weakened body was no match for their manic assault.

In the struggle, we slammed against the slightly ajar safety exit door, tumbling down a few steps.

I hit the floor, my vision blurring, my bones screaming in protest.

“Drag her up!” Piper shrieked.

“Drag her into the auditorium! Let the whole school see what a wreck she is! Let’s see her try to stay here after this!”

Braden grinned, a nasty, contorted look, and he and Piper grabbed me by my arms, roughly dragging me like a sack of trash.

I had almost no strength left, my consciousness fading.

They dragged me to the side entrance of the main auditorium.

Inside, the lights were blinding, the hall packed, the ceremony in full swing.

I stumbled and fell onto the smooth, cold marble floor, right in the center of countless converging gazes.

For a split second, the entire auditorium fell silent.

Then, I heard a loud crash from the stage—a microphone had been knocked over.

In the final moments before I blacked out, I saw my father’s horrified figure racing towards me.

His voice thundered, raw with rage:

“It seems this university doesn’t need our endowment after all!”