Chapter 2: The Red Catalyst
Just as Chloe was about to deliver another cutting remark about Julian’s "thrift-store" lifestyle, a low, guttural roar echoed off the historic library walls. A stunning, cherry-red Ferrari SF90 Stradale pulled up on the cobblestone street directly behind the trio. Its polished paint job caught the afternoon sun, making it look like a liquid gemstone.
Chad’s eyes widened, his face instantly shifting from disdain to sycophancy. "Wow. Look at that beast. Now that is what success looks like."
Chad turned back to Julian, his expression hardening back into a mask of cruel superiority. "Don't even look at it, Julian. You can't afford to scratch the paint. If you get within five feet of that car, I’ll make sure your scholarship is revoked before dinner."
Chloe giggled, a shrill sound that grated against the crisp autumn air. "Exactly. That car belongs to someone important. Not some charity case who buys his clothes from a dumpster."
Julian didn't say a word. He didn't argue. He didn't try to defend his socioeconomic status. Instead, he reached into the pocket of his torn, faded jacket. His hand moved with calm, fluid precision. He pulled out a sleek, obsidian-black car key fob—the kind that held more processing power than most computers.
May you like
Beep-beep.
The sound was crisp and absolute. The Ferrari’s lights flashed in a sharp, rhythmic sequence, and the locks disengaged with a mechanical click that sounded like a gunshot in the silent courtyard.
