Chapter 33: The Princess and the Pauper

Like the day before, Ares offered to drop Lara, Shay, and Sarah at the school.

Sarah reached for the back door first. She wanted the seat beside Shay… beside Ares. Close enough to smell his cologne. Close enough to pretend she mattered.

She slid halfway in.

It took only one look.

Ares didn’t raise his voice. He didn’t move but just lifted his eyes.

Cold. Sharp. Heavy as a blade against her throat.

Sarah, who was dressed to the nines, froze.

Her confidence crumbled instantly. She swallowed and backed out like a scolded stray dog, hurrying to the passenger seat instead.

The door shut with a dull click.

The black Bentley rolled through the morning, still hazy from the dew. Tinted windows. Engine purring low and expensive. The kind of car people instinctively moved out of the way for.

“Sir,” Sarah muttered, forcing a smile.

She tried again, voice sugary sweet. “Sir… a talent scout approached Shay yesterday. He said she’s perfect for a commercial. Larissa refused without even asking you. I had his name card but… I misplaced it.”

The words dripped with fake innocence.

The car went dead silent.

“Stop the car!”

Ares’ voice wasn’t loud. It didn’t need to be.

The driver slammed the brakes. The tires screeched. The sedan jerked hard, throwing everyone forward.

Before Sarah could steady herself—

“Get out.”

The command was brief, but the air inside grew tight, and the car fell quiet.

Sara’s lips curled into a small, secret smile.

Of course. He must be angry at Lara for overstepping.

She smoothed her hair, waiting for Lara to be thrown out.

“What are you waiting for?” the driver snapped, turning. “Get out.”

Sarah blinked.

“Me?” She pointed at herself. “Shouldn’t Larissa—”

“Are you an idiot?” Benny growled. “Move before Sir Ares gets even angrier.”

Her stomach dropped. She slowly turned toward Ares, looking for mercy, for confirmation, for anything.

Instead—

Her gaze met those unforgettable eyes. Dark as obsidian. Cutting straight through her.

She felt nailed to the seat.

“Don’t meddle in things that don’t concern you,” Ares said quietly.

That softness was worse than shouting.

“Remember your place.”

Ice slid down her spine.

Her hands shook as she shoved the door open and stumbled out onto the curb.

The sedan pulled away without another glance.

She stood there alone, knees weak, heart hammering.

What did I do wrong? Why… me?

But deep down—she knew. She’d tried to manipulate something she didn’t understand.

And Ares had noticed.

…

When Lara and Shay reached the classroom, only a handful of children were inside.

Morning light spilled through the windows, warm and lazy. Toys were scattered across the play area. Laughter bounced off the walls.

But not everyone was playing.

At the back of the room, Alexander Sandro sat alone.

Small. Quiet. Invisible.

A notebook lay open on his desk. He scribbled something, then glanced up whenever the other kids laughed—like he wanted to join but didn’t know how.

Like he’d already decided he wasn’t allowed.

Lara’s chest tightened. She walked over with Shay.

“Why aren’t you playing with them?” Lara asked gently.

Sandro looked up—and forgot how to breathe.

For a second, the world blurred. He felt as if he was looking at a pair of fairy’s eyes, so beautiful he could not help but stare longer.

Then her eyes caught the light, shifting from amber to green. Soft. Warm. Unreal.

Like something out of a dream.

His tongue tied itself in knots.

“Hey, are you deaf?” Shay huffed, hands on her hips, cheeks puffed out.

Lara chuckled. Shay looked so adorably fierce it was hard not to laugh.

“I… I…” he stammered.

“They don’t want to play with me,” Sandro finally whispered.

Shay studied him carefully. She knew that feeling too well.

Other kids avoided her, too. Because of Ethan. Because of Samantha. Whenever children played with her, the two of them and their two lapdogs made sure anyone who got close paid the price.

“I’ll play with you,” she said brightly, like it was the most obvious thing in the world.

There was no pity, nor hesitation.

She grabbed his hand and dragged him toward the LEGO table.

Sandro’s heart pounded. He’d stared at those blocks every time he entered the room but never dared touch them.

Yet now—

Someone had pulled him in.

At first his fingers were tentative, as if the blocks were fragile gems that would break in his hands. Once he got the momentum, it took him a few minutes to complete an airplane.

“Wow!” Shay gasped. “You’re good! You finished so fast!”

Her praise was pure. Unfiltered.

Sandro’s ears burned red. No one had praised him since his parents died. Not once.

Then—

THUD.

A sneaker smashed into the plane, and bricks exploded across the floor.

“What lousy junk,” Ethan sneered.

Sandro’s chest tightened. Here it comes again. He clenched his hands into fists and pursed his lips.

Lara was furious at Ethan’s action.

Her hand moved as a small flying brick spun past her face. She caught it midair and flicked her fingers.

“Ow! OW!”

Ethan howled, hopping on one foot.

“My leg! Something hit me!” he cried.

His nanny rushed over. “Master Ethan! What happened?”

“My leg hurts! Wu wu wuhh—!” he wailed louder.

Just then, Teacher Alice arrived and hurried in, kneeling beside him.

Lara dusted her hands calmly.

“He kicked the LEGO,” she said casually. “Probably got hit when it scattered.”

Teacher Alice nodded. It made sense. Kids were clumsy.

Sandro stared at Lara. Slowly, their eyes met.

He mouthed—

“Thank you.”

Lara paused.

A flicker of surprise crossed her face.

Did he… see that?

…

After school, Sandro said goodbye to Lara and Shay after thanking them a few more times for the gifts. Then he left and followed the narrow path that led toward the dormitory reserved for the workers—the janitors, gardeners, cooks, and guards who lived in the outskirts of the school grounds.

His room was waiting for him.

It was a small one he shared with Old Ben. Bare. Two single beds, a narrow study table, and a few old books stacked unevenly in the corner—rescued from the trash by Old Ben, the kind-hearted janitor who thought every child deserved stories, even discarded ones.

Sandro set his things down and opened each bag carefully. His eyes reddened when he saw the clothes fit him perfectly and felt soft against his skin. The two pairs of shoes were also a perfect fit.

When he opened the final shopping bag, he gasped. Inside was a blue backpack with the drawing of his favorite cartoon character, along with school supplies and art materials.

He hugged them in his arms like they were treasures.

For now, these were all the good things he had.

.

Source: Webnovel.com, updated by NovelKeep