Godly Investor: A Hundred Trillion Dollars For Investment And Donations-Chapter 305 -

Ethan didn't miss the curious, surprised, and even skeptical looks being thrown his way. The sheer fact that he wasn't on the plane with the rest of them had already stirred intrigue, but now his late entrance carried an almost theatrical weight.

At they are the instructor, a tall man with a stern demeanor, stepped forward, clearing his throat to command the room's attention. "Everyone," he began, his voice calm but authoritative, "please welcome Ethan Winston. He is joining us as one of the participants in this trip, courtesy of Lady Madison."

The mention of Lady Madison's name caused a ripple of murmurs throughout the room. Students exchanged glances, some whispering behind cupped hands. Lady Madison wasn't just a name; she was a symbol of influence and power. That she had personally intervened to bring Ethan here elevated him in a way that few could challenge.

Then the instructor continued, "Lady Madison not only ensured Ethan could join us, but she also covered his costs entirely. Additionally, she requested the school refund his original payment." He paused, letting the weight of his words sink in. "With that, Ethan will be considered one of the participants Lady Madison personally sponsored."

Ethan remained composed, his face betraying none of the whirlwind of thoughts in his mind. So, Grandma pulled another string behind my back, he mused. It wasn't unexpected, but it did put him in a position he hadn't intended. He had wanted to stay under the radar, but now everyone in the room knew who had brought him here.

The instructor gestured to the room.

"Ethan, please take a seat."

Ethan nodded politely and scanned the rows of chairs. His sharp eyes caught Serenity almost instantly. She was seated beside Dylan Carter, whose expression was a mix of amusement and curiosity. Serenity, on the other hand, looked stunned. Her wide eyes met Ethan's, and for a moment, the room seemed to fade away.

Ethan made his way to an empty seat in the middle of the room. As he walked, the whispers grew louder.

"Did Lady Madison really pay for him?"

"Who is he to her?"

"Why wasn't he on the plane?"

"Is he someone important we don't know about?"

He ignored them all, keeping his steps measured and his gaze straight ahead. He could feel the weight of their stares—some trying to size him up, others clearly skeptical of his presence. Let them wonder, he thought. The less they know, the better.

When he finally reached his seat and sat down, the murmurs didn't immediately die down. People were still trying to piece together the puzzle that was Ethan Winston. His calm demeanor only added to the mystique, making him an enigma in a room full of individuals used to being the center of attention.

The atmosphere in the room was thick with whispers and sidelong glances. It wasn't just the surprise of Ethan being the one Lady Madison sponsored—though that alone was enough to cause a stir—it was the sheer audacity of his presence.

He didn't carry himself like someone trying to fit in; his confidence made it seem like he belonged, and that unsettled the hierarchy some of these students were accustomed to.

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Many had assumed Lady Madison would sponsor a girl, someone poised and polished, a daughter of an influential family perhaps. Instead, a boy with an aura that couldn't be ignored had walked in. Ethan sat just a few rows behind Serenity and Dylan, his movements calm and deliberate, as though the weight of their stares meant nothing to him.

The moment he settled in his seat, a subtle shift rippled through the room. Murmurs turned into measured gazes. Even though he wasn't wearing the most expensive suit or flashing a family crest, something about his presence commanded attention. He wasn't dripping in overt luxury, but his physique was striking—lean yet strong, refined without effort. Before long, whispers about his appearance overtook those questioning his worth.

"He's the most handsome one here," someone murmured from across the room.

"Did you see his jawline?"

"He doesn't look rich enough, though."

It wasn't long before some of the guys in the room started shifting uncomfortably, their confidence visibly shaken. They were used to being the center of attention, and now Ethan, without trying, had stolen the spotlight.

Meanwhile, Ethan remained oblivious to—or at least unbothered by—the subtle competition brewing around him. He leaned back slightly, his gaze forward, waiting for the meeting to resume.

Serenity, sitting in front of him, turned in her chair. Her face was a mix of disbelief and relief, as if she couldn't quite decide whether to hug him or scold him for showing up late. She slid a small notepad toward him across the gap between their seats.

"Here," she said softly, "this is everything you missed."

Ethan took the notepad without a word, glancing over it briefly before nodding his thanks. Serenity's gesture didn't go unnoticed by Dylan, who was sitting beside her. His sharp eyes darted from Serenity to Ethan, his interest clearly piqued.

Then Dylan leaned slightly toward Serenity, his voice low but carrying enough weight to cut through the din of whispers.

"So, this is the 'poor friend' you were waiting for?"

The comment struck like a match on dry wood. Serenity's face darkened, her brows furrowing as she turned to Dylan, her voice sharper than before. "I never called him poor."

Dylan smirked, leaning back in his chair, but the damage was done. A few heads turned at the sharpness of Serenity's response, curiosity flickering in their eyes.

The tension in the room was palpable as the boy's voice cut through the hum of whispered conversations. "She called you a poor boy," he said, his tone louder and sharper now, clearly aiming to provoke. "And you promised to come, but the rat couldn't make it."

At that moment Serenity's face flushed with anger, her hands curling into fists on her lap. Her temper, usually restrained, threatened to boil over.

"I never said that!" she snapped, her voice trembling with a mix of fury and disbelief. She turned fully in her seat to face the boy, her eyes blazing. "How dare you put words in my mouth?"

Before she could continue, Ethan's calm voice cut through the chaos like a steady current.

"Serenity," he said softly, yet with enough weight to make her pause.

"Calm down."

Immediately she turned to him, her eyes still brimming with frustration, but his composed demeanor made her hesitate. He looked at her with a small, reassuring smile.

"I know you wouldn't say something like that. There's no need to prove anything."

The simplicity of his words carried a power that silenced not just Serenity but the murmurs around the room.

His tone wasn't defensive or angry—it was resolute, unshaken by the accusations. He didn't need to defend himself because he knew the truth, and that was enough.

At that moment Serenity let out a breath she hadn't realized she was holding, her shoulders relaxing slightly.

Then she gave him a small nod and turned back to face the teacher, trying to focus on anything other than the heat of embarrassment and anger still lingering in her chest.

The boy, however, wasn't ready to let it go. His surprise at Ethan's composure morphed into a smirk, though it was tinged with unease. He had expected Ethan to lash out or storm off, not to handle the situation with such grace.

"Well," he said, leaning back in his chair with an air of mock confidence, "you've got some wisdom, I'll give you that. But I wasn't lying. You're still the poorest among us."

At that moment Ethan's voice cut through the tension with a calm yet pointed remark, "Empty vessels always make the loudest noise," he said, his words deliberate, drawing everyone's attention.

Then a slight smirk tugged at his lips as he continued, "How about you demonstrate how much wealthier you are than me in action? Or is it that you just used your daddy and mommy's money to get here?"

Hearing what Ethan just said the room erupted in laughter, the tension dissolving into a ripple of amusement. A few students exchanged smirks, and even the teacher's stern façade seemed to crack for a moment.

Immediately The boy's face turned a deep shade of red, his embarrassment visible for all to see.

"You little—" the boy snapped, standing abruptly, his fist clenched as if he were ready to swing at Ethan.

But Ethan didn't flinch. With a steady hand, he caught the boy's wrist mid-air before it could even begin its descent. The move was so smooth, so calculated, it left the class in stunned silence. Ethan's grip was firm but not aggressive, and his expression remained calm.

"You shouldn't do that," Ethan said, his voice low but carrying an unmistakable authority.

"Because my mom never raised her hand to hit me, so you shouldn't either."

The laughter that followed was louder this time, filling the room with a mix of genuine amusement and disbelief.

At that moment the boy yanked his hand away, his eyes darting around the room as he realized the entire class was laughing at him now, not with him.

Then Ethan leaned back in his chair, his posture relaxed as if the confrontation had been nothing more than a mild inconvenience. He tilted his head slightly, locking eyes with the boy.

"You might want to rethink your approach," Ethan added, his tone light but laced with a subtle challenge.

The boy's jaw tightened, and for a moment, it seemed like he might try something else. But the weight of the class's eyes, coupled with Ethan's unshakable composure, was too much. With a sharp inhale, he grabbed his bag and stormed out of the room, slamming the door behind him.

The teacher, who had been watching the exchange with raised eyebrows, finally cleared her throat, regaining control of the room. "Settle down, everyone," she said, her tone firm but not unkind.

"Let's get back to the agenda."