It was a cool, crisp morning in New Haven. The autumn air clung lightly to the stone sidewalk, brown leaves shifting gently in the breeze. Yale always had a way of making people feel small—its gothic buildings were tall, old, and expensive in a way that didn't need to be announced.

A shiny black car pulled up on York Street.

Not an Uber. Not a taxi.

A brand-new Bentley Bentayga, its paintwork still too perfect to be touched by dust.

The door opened, and Malik got out without looking around. His new sneakers touched the pavement—Nike Air Jordans, still stiff from the box. His Gucci jacket fit him perfectly, a custom cut. His Patek Philippe watch reflected the early morning light, just enough to dazzle.

He didn't look like a student.

He looked like an investor who'd taken a wrong turn onto campus.

A few heads turned automatically.

Malik didn't meet anyone's gaze. His chin was slightly raised, his expression calm—not loud arrogance. More like… habitually being looked at.

He had only taken three steps when someone bumped into him from behind. Malik closed his eyes and took a deep breath to calm the bulging veins in his veins.

"Here…here. Shite day, honestly. Absolute shite."