Romans & histoires The S Class That I Raised

"Get out! From now on, you have nothing to do with this family! Who the hell do you think you are? Just because you're wearing a Rolex and driving a nice car, you think you're somebody?" Cyrus froze. His face quickly flushed red with humiliation. Then, at last, he snapped. He lifted his chin defiantly and shot back, "What right do you have to tell me to leave? Everything I have was given to me by my mom! It has nothing to do with you! “I gave you a little respect, and now you actually think you're some kind of authority figure?" The moment I heard that, my heart sank. Over the years, work kept me busy.

Marco asked. I shot Alexander an amused look. "Told you," I whispered. "Water is fine," I said to Marco. "I've selected several models that might interest Mrs. Carter," Marco said, leading us deeper into the showroom. "Based on Mr. Carter's specifications." "And what specifications were those?" I asked, raising an eyebrow at Alexander. "Elegant but not flashy. Powerful but not ostentatious. Safe but fun to drive," Alexander replied smoothly. Marco gestured to a sleek silver sedan. "The Mercedes S-Class. A classic choice, refined and understated with all the luxury features."

Maybe if you pulled that selfish head of yours out of your ass, you might realize that your family also needed you. I looked down and then sighed. “It’s not a sedan, right? You know I can’t fit in those. I’m too tall.” Damian let out a light chortle. “No. It’s not a sedan.” “Not a Jeep either.” “No. I know better.”

"You're always beautiful, honey. That's why your sister held you and asked us to be our little baby." I giggled. "Which makes me so lucky." After waving my hand as a goodbye and kissing her cheek some more, I set off from our modern luxury mansion and approached my F-type black Jaguar sitting on our outdoor garage. I named her, Maleficent. It was pretty dandy model, odd for a student like me to drive around but my father insisted that we had money anyway so why not spend it in luxuries. He would always say, 'Wealth brings strength, strength confidence.'

"Busy? You already quit your job. What could you possibly be busy with? I give you two grand a month—isn't that more than enough?" Stuart's voice dripped with entitlement. How ironic. Stuart had always been a cheapskate. In my past life, even Peter's school supplies had come out of my pocket. Now that he didn't have me to leech off, parting with over a third of his measly five-thousand-a-month salary must've hurt. Not a shred of guilt or gratitude toward Rosie for raising his kid.

10 years after graduation, I drove my old Ford to the reunion. My former classmates arrived in Lamborghinis, Ferraris, Maybachs, and even a gold Bugatti. Compared to their cars, mine looked downright pathetic. Their words were laced with mockery, barely concealed beneath thinly veiled smiles. The only one who comforted me was Dolly Stevens, the former cheerleading assistant, who even hinted that I would be driving a luxury car someday.

The highest and rarest class is S, and the lowest is a C. A C-class beta is significantly weaker than an S-class beta. Doesn’t matter how hard they train; biology is against them. That’s just how this works. They will always lack something that the class above them has. I happen to not only be poor, well below middle class if you want to be fancy about it, but also a C-class omega. I don’t have to worry about being wanted by any alpha because I’m just not good enough. That’s basically what my DNA said to me.

“Nice meeting you, Niusa. But could you tell us about that green book?” “Oh,” she showed them the book. “This one? This is called the first-class grimoire. Every basic spell will be written here.” “Where can we get that?” Niusa was surprised again. “I thought you didn’t have this since your magic is far advanced. You could be at the S-Class.” Malaika’s forehead creased. “S-Class?” “It means senior class. They are the ones having missions to neutralize any threats lingering in Axum. They had to complete a certain number of missions to graduate. And once they graduate, they’d choose which elite army unit to be assigned,” Niusa explained.

The schism of status between them was as wide as the gap between a princess and a peasant. All of that was gone. On the contrary, it was her turn to be nervous and uneasy in his presence. Her erstwhile haughtiness and self-importance had escaped her like a puff of smoke. Zayn’s performance had blown her mind. He was not just any normal agent—he was a 4S-class superhuman powerhouse! She might be a hapless outsider when it came to powers like these, but she was aware of the significance of the ranks. 4S-class legends were those at the very apex of the human classes. They were the elites who were above the shackles of wealth. Anyone who reached that level of skill was likely capable of making h

he announced. His voice vibrated, waking me from the enhancement of his presence. Rising, he took my hand in his and led me out the door. With my fantastic driving skills, we were in front of my old building in no time. Parking, Miles, who paled like someone who had seen a ghost, exhaled. "You are never driving. Ever! You could have killed us. I am enrolling you in a driving class, woman." Chuckling, I said, "stop being a drama queen. You are just jealous that you can't ride a Porsche the way I do."