Chapter 3
Elite High School lived up to its reputation as the city’s top private school. Even the gate was gilded, glinting brightly in the sun.
I stood at the entrance in a faded blue-and-white uniform—sticking out like a sore thumb among students in custom suits stepping out of luxury cars.
Nearly everyone stared, their eyes filled with undisguised contempt.
The Lane family had acted fast. Before I even stepped inside, my “legendary” backstory had spread like wildfire.
They whispered about the real heir—dragged from some small town—scheming to get back into the family for money.
I ignored their stares and headed straight for the administration office.
Just as I turned the corner, a group blocked my path.
At the front was Oliver, dressed in a designer school uniform, surrounded by his entourage like a prince.
When Oliver saw me, he feigned surprise.
“James, you actually came! That’s great,” he gushed, rushing over to hook his arm through mine.
I stepped aside, easily dodging his touch.
His hand froze mid-air; his face paled, and his eyes reddened instantly.
“James, are you still mad at me?” Oliver murmured.
One of the boys behind him stepped forward, pointing at me with a hostile tone. “Hey! Who do you think you are? Oliver’s being nice, and you’re giving him attitude?”
Another joined in. “Yeah, aren’t you the lost son they found? Oliver’s always so kind. Don’t you dare pick on him!”
Oliver hurried to pull them back, putting on his best act of kindness.
“Don’t say that. James just grew up in a more… traditional place. He’s not used to things here yet. Let’s not push him,” he said.
With a few words, he painted me as a clueless hick jealous of his perfect life.
All the while, he played the flawless prince—kind, understanding, always thinking of others, even when he was the “victim.”
More students gathered to watch, craning their necks and judging me like I was a circus act.
“So that’s the real heir? Ugh, he looks so tacky.”
“Seriously, next to Oliver, he’s like dirt compared to a god—worlds apart.”
“Pathetic. If I were him, I’d be too ashamed to show my face here.”
I glanced at Oliver, his fake innocent expression doing nothing to phase me.
In my previous life, he’d lifted me up just to tear me down, isolating me until I grew paranoid and bitter.
Now, these childish tricks just seemed laughably weak.
Just then, the crowd parted, and a tall, striking woman walked over.
She wore the student council uniform, a president’s badge glinting on her chest—exuding natural arrogance with every step.
She was Oliver’s older sister, Samantha Lane.
The moment Samantha appeared, Oliver’s tears started flowing.
“Samantha…” he called out pitifully, hiding behind her with a wronged look.
Samantha didn’t even glance at me. She frowned, patted Oliver’s shoulder in sympathy, then turned her cold eyes to me.
“Come with me,” she ordered.
She led me to the empty rooftop.
The wind howled, whipping her sharp student council jacket around like a flag.
“I don’t care how you weaseled your way into Elite High School. Just remember this,” Samantha said.
She looked down at me, her eyes cold and condescending.
“Oliver is our family’s treasure—pure, kind, sensitive. If you ever hurt him, I have a hundred ways to make this place unbearable for you,” she warned.
Her words were identical to those in my previous life—word for word.
Back then, I would’ve paled with fear, desperate to convince her I’d never harm Oliver.
But now…
I lifted my head, meeting her cold, judgmental gaze with a steady voice. “Are you done?”
Samantha froze, clearly not expecting that reaction.
I stepped forward, closing the distance between us. My voice stayed low, but every word cut through the air. “First, I’m not here for you, not for Oliver, and not for your precious Lane family. So keep your self-important warnings to yourself.”
“Second, you think he’s pure and kind?” I let out a cold laugh. “You must be blind.”
“Finally,” I said, watching her face darken with anger, my voice calm and sharp. “Make sure your brother stays out of my way. Don’t let him bother me again.
“If he does, I can’t guarantee he’ll keep that ‘sweet good boy’ image intact.”