Rich Love

Carolyn’s POV

I stood in front of Covent High School, my stomach twisting with nerves.

The school’s tall gates stretched before me, their sleek metal bars polished to perfection. Beyond them, the school grounds looked like something out of a magazine—lush green lawns, towering buildings, and students dressed in crisp uniforms.

This wasn’t just any school. It was for the rich, the children of senators, business tycoons, and celebrities. Here, kids arrived in chauffeur-driven cars or drove themselves in luxury vehicles.

I swallowed hard. What am I doing here?

At fourteen, I was the only child of my mother, who had raised me alone in a ghetto slum. Life had been hard, but I had studied relentlessly and earned a full scholarship to Covent High School, one of the most prestigious and expensive private schools in Nigeria.

Now, here I was. A girl from the slums, about to walk into a school full of kids who had never known hardship.

I forced my legs to move forward.

Just as I reached the gates, two security guards in blue uniforms blocked my way.

“Where’s your school ID?” the shorter, dark-skinned one asked, eyeing me suspiciously.

“I… um… I don’t have it yet,” I stammered, my heart pounding. “Today is my first day.”

The taller guard frowned. “No ID, no entry.”

I panicked. “I was told I’d get it today,” I explained, hoping he’d let me through.

The shorter guard shook his head. “Rules are rules.”

Just then, a familiar voice called my name.

“Carolyn!”

I turned to see a black SUV pulling up. My aunt, Patricia, or Aunty Pat, as I called her, sat in the front seat while her daughter, Emma, climbed out. I was living with my mum sister for the time being until I finish my high school.

“You left before us,” Aunty Pat said, frowning. “I wanted to take you and Emma to school. Did you come with Julius?”

Julius—her son, my cousin—was also starting school today. But the truth was, he had refused to let me ride in his car. I call him and his sister the evil twins, that's exactly what they are.

“No, Aunty,” I lied, forcing a smile. “He was already gone when I came out.”

The truth? Julius had looked me dead in the eyes that morning and said, You don’t belong in my car, gutter girl.

andat sighed. Unlike her children, she treated me with kindness. Her husband, Uncle Emeka, a wealthy senator, barely acknowledged my existence. My mother always says that it was a miracle that someone from Uncle Emeka’s background fall in love with my aunty and married her, most wealthy people marry from their circle.

“Next time just wait for me I will drop you and Emma to school” Aunty Pat said

“Okay Aunt” I replied, I don't know if I would do that but I really can't say that to her. I was not sure I wanted to ride in the same car with Emma.

“What’s going on here?” she asked, turning to the guards.

“She doesn’t have her school ID,” the short one explained.

Emma scoffed loudly, flipping her long black hair over her shoulder.

“She doesn’t belong here,” she muttered, loud enough for me to hear. “She should go back to the slums where she came from.”

My stomach twisted at her words.

“Emma, shut up!” Aunty Pat snapped.

“But it’s true, Mom,” Emma argued, her voice dripping with arrogance. “Everyone here comes from money. We all know each other because our parents are in the same social circles. She’s only here because of the school’s charity program.” She turned to me and smirked. “Congratulations, Carolyn. You’re this year’s lucky charity case.”

My face burned with shame, but I clenched my fists and stayed silent.

“That’s enough, young lady!” Aunty Pat scolded. “You need to fix your attitude before it gets you into serious trouble.”

Emma rolled her eyes and folded her arms.

Aunty Pat turned to the guards. “Carolyn is my niece. She’s supposed to receive her school ID today. Let her in under my daughter’s clearance. If there’s any issue, find Emma, and she’ll call me.”

The guards hesitated before nodding.

“Go on in,” the tall one finally said.

Relieved, I whispered a quiet, “Thank you,” and walked past the gate.

But the moment I stepped inside, someone shoved me hard from behind.

I stumbled forward, hitting the pavement with my hands and knees.

Laughter rang out above me.

“Stay away from me and my brother,” Emma sneered. “Just go about your business and don’t embarrass yourself.”

Tears burned behind my eyes, but I refused to let them fall.

Emma walked away like nothing had happened, leaving me on the ground.

I took a deep breath, pushed myself up, and dusted my uniform.

I can’t let them break me.

This scholarship was my one chance. If I lost it, I’d be forced to attend a government school where teachers barely showed up and students had no future.

I had to make my mother proud.

I took a step forward—only to be nearly knocked over by a sudden wave of screaming students.

I turned, confused.

A sleek black 2024 Mercedes-Benz had just pulled up.

The door opened, and a boy stepped out.

He was tall and brown-skinned, his cat-like eyes sharp and unreadable. His uniform fit him perfectly, emphasizing his toned build. His jet-black hair was cropped low, his lips a natural pink.

For a second, I forgot to breathe.

He was the most beautiful person I had ever seen.

The moment he stepped out, the crowd erupted. Girls squealed, pushing to get closer to him.

I stood frozen, mesmerized.

“He’s gorgeous, isn’t he?”

I turned to see a girl beside me. She had a low-cut hairstyle, glasses, and a bright smile.

“He is,” I admitted.

“I’m Tina. First day here,” she said, holding out her hand.

I shook it. “Carolyn. Nice to meet you. Also my first day here”

Tina nodded toward the boy. “You don’t know who he is?”

I shook my head.

Her eyes widened. “Seriously? Maybe it’s because you’re biracial and don’t know much about Nigerian high society.”

I sighed. This always happens.

“I’m not biracial,” I said, tired of explaining. “Both my parents are Nigerian. My skin color comes from my grandmother and r. And my blue eyes…” I hesitated before repeating what I always said, “That’s just God doing His wonders.” The tales about my appearance is something I can't tell in one day, I was very light skinned, with thick 4C black hair, tall and slim with blue eyes. My mother said she took me for deliverance at her church when she realized that I had blue eyes, most people thought I was a witch because Nigerians hardly come with blue eyes, they may come with light skin but definitely not blue eyes.

Tina whistled. “You’re beautiful. But… that might be a problem for you here.”

I didn’t ask what she meant. I already knew. My light skin and unusual eyes had always made me a target of bullying and insults.

“Forget that,” I said quickly. “Who is he?”

“That,” Tina said dramatically, “is J.J.—Jay Johnson. Heir to the Johnson Empire. His family owns more than half of the country’s wealth. They decide who becomes president.”

I sucked in a breath.

I had heard of the Johnsons. Everyone had. They were untouchable, powerful beyond imagination.

J.J. adjusted his backpack, ignoring the screaming students. But then—

He stopped.

Right in front of me.

For a moment, everything went still.

His cat-like eyes locked onto mine.

I felt my breath hitch.

He didn’t smile. He didn’t speak.

But he stared—lke he was searching for something in my face.

My heart pounded in my chest.

I lowered my gaze first, breaking the moment.

And then, just as quickly as he had stopped, he walked away.

I let out a breath I hadn’t realized I was holding.

Tina elbowed me playfully. “Looks like the golden boy just noticed you.”

I shook my head. “No way. That was nothing.”

But deep down, I knew I was already in love with him, I fell in love with someone I can never have.