Part Two: The Girl in Rags
It was a slow Saturday afternoon when Kelvin first saw Clara. He was scrolling lazily through social media in his room, bored of the attention he had already gotten that week. Then he came across a picture—a girl, barefoot, in tattered clothes, standing near a rusty gate. Her face was clean, her eyes sharp, but her dress screamed “poor.”
Someone had posted the photo with a mocking caption: "This one go thief money buy phone. Hungry slay queen."
Kelvin smirked, zoomed in on her face, and reposted it with his own cruel comment:
“Phone cost pass your generation. Go beg for data next time.”
The post exploded. His followers laughed, shared, commented. “King K, no mercy!” “Finish her!” “Eww, so dirty!” Clara didn’t reply, but she saw it all. Every word. Every laugh. Every wound. What Kelvin didn’t know was—Clara wasn’t just a girl online. She was real, and life had its own way of spinning tables.
Three days later, Clara and her mother arrived at the Adams’ mansion.
Kelvin had just gotten home from school when he saw them. The girl from the photo. Standing beside his family’s chief maid, holding a small bag. His mouth fell open.
“Kelvin, meet our new house help,” his mother said warmly. “This is Clara. She and her mother will be staying in the boys' quarters. Be respectful.”
Kelvin couldn’t speak. His throat went dry.
Clara looked at him—no fear, no hatred, just quiet power. She didn’t flinch, even when he stared like he’d seen a ghost. She only gave a small, polite smile and looked away.
Days passed. Clara cleaned the house, helped in the kitchen, watered the garden. She barely said a word to Kelvin, though she passed him every morning. His friends texted him to keep bullying “the maid girl,” but for some reason, he couldn’t. Not anymore. Not since he saw how his parents treated her.
His mother taught Clara how to dress properly. His father often praised her good manners. They gave her clothes, food, respect—things he had taken for granted. Then came the final blow.
One morning at breakfast, his mother announced, “We’ve decided to sponsor Clara's education. She’ll be attending Royal Pillar High with you, Kelvin. Same class too.”
Kelvin choked on his cereal. “What?!”
“Clara deserves a chance. She’s a smart girl,” his father said firmly. “And don’t try any nonsense. We’ll be watching.”
Kelvin glared at Clara across the table. She didn’t say a word. But deep in her eyes was a quiet fire—the kind that didn’t need revenge to burn someone alive.
And just like that, the school King found himself standing next to the very girl he had mocked in front of the whole world. Only now, she was no longer a girl in rags.
She was a girl with pride, with grace, and with a second chance.
And Kelvin... was the one drowning in silent regret.
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