Eyes were wide, unblinking, locked on the boy who had just rewritten what a human body could do.
The Phei Simps section detonated firstâ
Emily and Delilah
leaping onto their cheers, arms raised, screaming until their voices cracked raw.
Emilyâs hands were shaking so violently she nearly dropped her phone; Delilah had tears streaming down her face, not from sadness but from the sheer, overwhelming joy of watching everything theyâd bled for validated in one impossible moment.
Sierra stood beside Maddie, both girls on their feet, Sierraâs composure shattered into a rare, feral grin that showed actual teeth while Maddie jumped up and down like a child whoâd just been handed the keys to the universe, tears of wild joy streaking her face, screaming Pheiâs name until her throat went hoarse.
Even the female referee forgot to blow the whistle. She stood rooted at mid-court, whistle dangling uselessly from her lips, eyes wide, mouth open in a perfect little
O
of shock, one hand half-raised as though she meant to signal something but couldnât remember what the rules even were anymore.
In the luxury box high above, Dravenna watched from her private boothâstanding, one hand pressed to the glass so hard her fingerprints left fog, mouth hanging open, the
unflappable
heiress reduced to wide-eyed wonder, breath fogging the pane in short, stunned bursts.
Melissa chuckled softly beside Haroldâlow, satisfied, almost proudâas she watched her nephew hang above the rim like a living constellation. Haroldâs jaw had dropped so far, his chin nearly touched his chest.
Mr. Castellano sat beside him in the same state, mouth open, glasses fogged, one hand frozen halfway to his drink.
Adriana
âusually so composedâhad both hands pressed to her cheeks, eyes shining with something between disbelief and reverence, whispering
"My God"
under her breath like a prayer she hadnât known she still remembered.
Melissa chuckled more.
Soft. Satisfied.
Proud
.
The sound made Haroldâs head snap toward her. His wife was
smiling
. Not the polite, passive smile sheâd worn for twenty years of marriage. Something warm and genuine and openly delightedâthe expression of a woman watching
a beloved
succeed beyond all expectation.
Harold froze looking like a man whoâd just watched his entire worldview collapse and was still waiting for someone to explain the punchline.
"Harold,." Melissaâs voice dripped with honeyed mockery. "You look
undignified."
"Thatâs..." Haroldâs voice came out strangled. "Thatâs not possible. Pheiâheâs just aâ"
"A charity case?" Melissa sipped her champagne, eyes never leaving the court. "Yes, youâve mentioned that. Several times. Daily, in fact, for the past ten years."
"He canâtâno one canâ"
"And yet." Melissa gestured at the rim, where Phei still stood like a god surveying his domain. "There he is. Doing exactly what you say couldnât be done."
Haroldâs hands were shaking.
"Danton," he managed. "My sonâMarcusâthey were supposed toâ"
"They were supposed to
destroy
him? Humiliate him? Remind everyone that Legacy blood means something?" Melissa set down her glass, turned to face her husband fully. "Instead, your precious Danton got
crossed
so badly he fell on his face. Paradise golden boy Marcus got dunked on so hard I think his soul left his body. And the charity case? The nothing? The nobody?"
She smiled. Sweet. Devastating.
"Heâs currently standing on court like he owns it. Because from now on? He does."
Harold looked like he might be sick.
"This isnât over," he said weakly. "The Heavenchild family willâ"
"The family will do nothing." Melissaâs voice went cold. "Because if theyâre smartâand they are, despite evidence to the contraryâtheyâll realize that boy is more friend than an enemy."
She picked up her champagne again.
"You should think about that too, darling. Before you say something you canât take back."
Adriana had both hands pressed to her cheeks.
"My God," she whispered.
"My God, my God, my God..."
Her husband glanced at her, concerned. "Adriana? Are you alright?"
"That boy," she breathed. "Thatâs the boy from next door. The one Harold callsâ"
"The charity case. Yes." Mr. Castellanoâs voice was strained. Heâd bet against Phei. Heavily. The numbers he was losing right now would require some creative accounting to hide from the firm. "Iâm... aware."
"He just
walked on air
, Roberto."
"I saw."
"He dunked on five people by himself."
"I
saw
."
Adriana turned to look at her husbandâreally look at himâand something shifted behind her eyes.
"You bet against him."
It wasnât a question.
Mr. Castellanoâs jaw tightened. "The odds wereâ"
"How much?"
Silence.
"
How much
, Roberto?"
"...Enough."
"How. Fucking. Much?"
"15â"
"Fifteen what?"
"Million."
Adriana stared at him for a long moment. Then she laughedâshort, sharp, disbelieving.
"You fool," she said, but there was no real venom in it. Just exhaustion. "You absolute fool."
She turned back to Melissa.
"I need a drink," she muttered. "Several drinks sweet, how about a club tonight?" Melissa nodded instantly like this what sheâd been waiting for.
****
Vice Principal
Ashworth
was laughing.
Not loudly or obviously. Just a quiet shake of his shoulders, a crinkle around his seventy-three-year-old eyes, the private amusement of someone whoâd spent fifty years navigating Legacy politics and had just watched a seventeen-year-old blow it all to pieces.
"Sir?"
His assistant hovered nervously. "The board is calling. The
Heavenchild
family isâ"
"Let them call." Ashworthâs voice was dry as autumn leaves. "I watched that boy walk on
air
. The Heavenchilds can wait."
Donât disappoint me
, heâd told Phei.
This is the most fun Iâve had in decades.
The boy hadnât disappointed. If anything, heâd over-delivered so spectacularly that Ashworth was going to need a new definition of fun.
****
Valentina, stood beside Karianâpride and disbelief warring across her face, chest rising and falling rapidly, one hand pressed to her heart as though to keep it from bursting.
Karian, the man who had
trained
the boy
from nothing
just three weeks ago, stared with quiet awe, lips parted, knowing he had helped forge something that now towered over them all, something that had just made every hour of pain and sweat worth it.
Above, in the shadowed upper tiers, the
Consort
watched so did her master through herâstanding, mouth slightly open in rare, unguarded surprise. The results they had expected... but Phei had over-delivered in a way that bordered on insolence.
Pheiâs fairâtiny, luminous, hovering near the raftersâsmiled cutely, exchanging delighted glances at the Consortâs disbelief, their wings fluttering with barely contained glee.
Most importantly, more than half the crowd who had bet against Phei didnât even get the chance to see their money slip past their fingers. The bookiesâ screens froze mid-update. The odds had been moving in real timeâuntil they simply stopped.
No one could process what had just happened fast enough to adjust. Fortunes were made and lost in the span of one impossible hang-time.
The net was still swaying. The rim groaned quietly, offended, forever changed.
He didnât celebrate.
He simply started a smooth, rolling daggie danceâhips swaying, shoulders loose, feet gliding in that effortless, street-born rhythm that said this was nothing new to him.
Heâd learnt this from DeShawn and others.
The crowd caught it instantly.
First a few voices, then dozens, then thousandsâthey started
singing.
A song. The same filthy, infectious beat started playing in stadium speakers, now raised to arena volume. Phones lit up everywhereâpeople filming, singing, losing their minds.
Landon and Brian
sprinted
overâgrinning like children whoâd just been handed the keys to the cityâand joined him. Three bodies moving in perfect sync, hips rolling, shoulders dipping, the dance spreading like wildfire across the court.
Ms. Bloomâchuckled from the faculty section, shaking her head in fond disbelief, one hand covering her mouth as though she couldnât quite believe she was witnessing this.
FWEEEEEEET!
The whistle finally came.
The referee had remembered she existedâremembered the rules, remembered her job, remembered that technically someone was supposed to declare this massacre officially over.
"Game!" she shouted, voice cracking. "Final scoreâfifty to seventeen!"
The words barely left her lips before the stadium
exploded
.
200,000 voices screaming at once. The sound was physicalâa wall of noise that hit you in the chest, rattled your teeth, made your eyes water.
The scoreboard flickered one final time:
PHEIâS TEAM: 50
HEAVEN REAPERS: 17
First to fifty.
And the charity case had doubled them.
The Phei Simps didnât wait for permission.
They poured onto the court like a flood breaking through a damâsecurity guards overwhelmed instantly, swept aside by a tide of screaming girls in blue and white uniforms.
Emily led the charge, sprinting across the hardwood with tears streaming down her face, Delilah right behind herâsheâd broken, finally, couldnât stay in her seat one second longer even with her father watching or notâthen dozens more, all of them running toward the boy who had just made believers out of doubters.
Emily reached him first.