Chapter 10
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The assistant stepped forward, his presence enough to silence the murmurs of the crowd. Ignoring the director's question, he muttered. "Kyle's business here is done. From now on, you will treat him with the respect he deserves. And if anyone here touches his family again, there will be consequences."
The director faltered, his confidence shaken as he looked between Kyle and Gray. "What are you talking about? Who do you think you are?"
Kyle straightened, his face set in stone as he met the director's gaze. "You'll find out soon enough."
Stephen groaned from the ground, his bloodied face twisted in pain. Tara's eyes widened in disbelief as she realized how hurt and disarray Stephen looks, and she glared at Kyle with hatred.
Kyle clenched his fists one last time, taking in the faces of those who had tormented him for so long. He wasn't the same person they used to mock, and they were about to find out how wrong they all were.
The courtyard fell into an eerie silence as Tara helped Stephen up and supported him as they stood beside the director, their faces twisting with fake indignation. Stephen clutched his bruised face before he spoke with venom.
"He's a menace!" Stephen hissed, his voice trembling with anger. "He attacked me for no reason, just because I told him the truth. He's out of control!"
Tara chimed in, her tone dripping with fake concern. "He's been nothing but trouble for this school, Director. He attacked Stephen out of revenge because he couldn't handle being suspended."
The director's frown deepened as he turned to Kyle, his eyes filled with disapproval. "Is this true? Have you lost all sense of decency, Kyle?"
Before Kyle could speak, his grandmother, who was still pale and shaking, tried to defend him. "Please, sir, it's not like that. They have been tormenting him—"
Kyle gently placed a hand on her arm, stopping her from continuing. "You don't need to say anything, Grandma," he said quietly, his voice firm but calm. His eyes flickered with cold disdain as he turned toward the director. "We both know the truth won't matter here."
The director's eyes flashed with anger at Kyle's words. "Watch your tone," he snapped. "You think you can speak to me like that? I run this school, and you're nothing but a troublemaker who's about to be expelled."
Kyle crossed his arms, unmoved. "Is that so?"
The director's nostrils flared as he took a step forward. "You think just because you've learned how to throw a few punches, you can get away with anything? I've had enough of your attitude, Kyle. You don't show any respect. It's no wonder you're a disgrace."
Kyle's lips curled into a faint smile, one that sent a shiver through the crowd gathered around them. "Respect?" he repeated, almost to himself. "Is that what you think this is about?"
Stephen, still holding his swollen cheek, sneered. "You're a loser, Kyle. You'll always be a loser. Just like your grandmother—"
Before he could finish, Kyle's eyes darkened, and a dangerous edge slipped into his voice. "Watch your mouth."
Stephen flinched, but his arrogance wouldn't let him back down. He glared at Kyle with renewed hatred. "What are you going to do? A low commoner like you has nothing valuable to offer."
Kyle said nothing, his gaze cold and calculating as it shifted to the director. "Tell me, Director," he said, his tone almost conversational, "how much has Stephen's father sponsored this school with?" Kyle and Gray exchanged an understanding look.
The director blinked in surprise, clearly not expecting such a question. Stephen smirked at Kyle's audacity, while Tara giggled as if the whole situation were a joke. "Oh, now you want to know how much my dad's money runs this place?" Stephen taunted, throwing a smug glance at the director.
The director raised an eyebrow, both confused and amused. "Why do you care, Kyle? Do you really think you're in a position to ask such things?"
Kyle's voice remained steady, completely unfazed by their mockery. "Just answer the question."
The crowd had grown larger, students watching with fascination as the exchange unfolded. Some of them had their phones out, recording or even live-streaming the confrontation, eager to see Kyle humiliated once again. Kyle could feel their eyes on him, waiting for him to crumble.
The director finally let out a small, amused chuckle, glancing at Stephen. "His father has donated a considerable amount to this school. It's well into the six figures in dollars, Kyle. Far more than you'll ever see in your lifetime."
Stephen folded his arms, grinning triumphantly. "That's right. And there's more where that came from. You're not going to survive this."
Kyle's expression didn't change. Instead, he reached into his pocket and pulled out his phone, his movements slow and deliberate. "Six figures, you said?"
The director's smile faltered slightly, uncertain where this was going. "Yes," he said cautiously, eyeing Kyle. "What about it?"
Kyle turned to Gray and whispered into his ear. Gray then called one of the bodyguards and gave a task; within a few minutes, a laptop was open and held before Kyle, after Gray had typed in and typed on the keyboard with great speed.
Then, with a calmness that chilled the air, he looked the director in the eye. "I'll donate ten times that amount. Right now."
Laughter erupted from Stephen, Tara, and several students in the crowd. Stephen's mocking laugh echoed the loudest. "Ten times?" he cackled. "You've lost it, Kyle. You couldn't even afford lunch last week, and now you're talking about millions?"
Tara leaned into Stephen, giggling. "He's delusional. It's pathetic, really."
The director too looked amused. "This isn't a game, Kyle. I don't have time for your ridiculous jokes." But Kyle's expression remained deadly serious. "I'm not joking."
The crowd's laughter died now as Kyle's confidence began to unsettle them. Stephen's smirk faltered as Kyle continued, "Give me the official account details of the school, and I'll transfer the money. Now."
The director stared at Kyle, clearly caught off guard. He exchanged a glance with Stephen, who shifted uncomfortably. "This is absurd," the director muttered. "You can't possibly have that kind of money."
"Are you afraid?" Kyle asked, his eyes narrowing. "Afraid that you might lose your precious donor?"
The director's face turned red with indignation, but before he could respond, Kyle stepped closer, his voice growing colder. "Give me the account details."
For a moment, the director seemed at a loss for words, unsure whether Kyle was bluffing or if there was something more to this situation. The tension in the air thickened as everyone watched in stunned silence.
Finally, the director, determined to put an end to the spectacle, pulled out his phone and recited the account details. Stephen's smugness had all but evaporated as he glanced nervously between the director, Kyle, Gray, and the men around them.
Kyle typed in the information, and within moments, a screen popped up that requested his card ID. Kyle brought out the black card that his grandfather had given him earlier and typed in the numbers on the screen. The laptop screen lit up with a notification. He turned the screen toward the director, showing the large sum ready to be transferred.
"Go ahead," Kyle said quietly. "Watch it happen."