Mocked at Reunion, Until My True Identity Stunned Them

I had been away for seven years. When I finally returned, it was for a field assignment.

By coincidence, a high school reunion was happening at the same time. Despite my current status, I decided to attend; it had been years since I last saw my old classmates.

Everyone seemed to be thriving. Mercedes, BMWs, Audis and luxury cars lined the parking lot like trophies of success.

Unfortunately, the municipal car fleet had suffered a bout of food poisoning that day, leaving me with no choice but to take a taxi to the restaurant. Even my secretary wasn’t with me; I had to keep a low profile, after all.

As luck would have it, my classmates spotted me stepping out of the taxi. Immediately, they started mocking me for studying so much, only to end up without even a car to my name.

Thorne Bennett sauntered over, arriving in a Bugatti Veyron. He clapped me on the shoulder, smirking. "Come work at my company. You have no high position, but I can let you be a janitor. At least that way, you’ll get a car, finally one of us, huh?"

Rowan Dawson, my old rival from high school, leaned in with a sneer. "Or maybe you could go crawling back to your ex. Lilith West is a Lawson opera master now. She’s loaded, who knows? You might finally get a shot at driving a luxury car."

I merely smiled, unfazed.

"With my job, I’ll never get the chance to drive a luxury car in this lifetime."

***

High school was true youth.

There had been innocent romances, the relentless grind of preparing for college entrance exams and friendships forged through shared hardships.

So, despite my special status now, despite no longer fitting into casual gatherings with old classmates, I still chose to attend the reunion.

That day, the municipal car fleet suffered a case of food poisoning, leaving me without a driver. But it didn’t matter. I had planned to keep a low profile anyway. I took a taxi and didn’t even bring my secretary.

Of course, I was well aware that my movements carried weight now. Security had already been arranged, silent figures stationed along my route and discreetly positioned at the hotel.

Before long, the taxi pulled up in front of the grand entrance.

As I stepped out, my gaze landed on a lively group. They were none other than my old classmates, deep in conversation, laughter spilling between them.

Luxury cars lined the lot, polished and gleaming under the evening lights. Their attire spoke of success and life had treated them well from how they carried themselves.

Seeing them thriving, I felt a quiet sense of happiness for them.

Just as I was about to greet them, someone spotted me first.

But there was no warm welcome, no familiar smiles. Instead, their gazes shifted, filled with something else: mockery.

Before the silence could settle, an engine's deep, guttural roar sliced through the air and a silver Bugatti Veyron glided into the parking lot, its presence commanding attention.

A man stepped out of the car, his custom-tailored suit perfectly sculpted. With a casual flick of his wrist, a million-dollar watch caught the light, glinting like a silent proclamation of power. His mere presence commanded attention.

"President Bennett is here!"

"Ah, Thorne Bennett! You finally made it! We’ve been talking about you all evening."

"Look over there, Thorne! Our former class genius showed up too and came in a taxi."

No one spared me a second glance. The crowd surged toward Thorne instead, their enthusiasm palpable.

Back in high school, Thorne had been the wealthiest among us, the golden boy with everything handed to him. He was also once my rival in love.

His gaze swept over me, filled with thinly veiled disdain. Then, with a smirk of feigned ignorance, he tilted his head.

"Who’s this? Oh, it’s Cassius Parker. What are you even wearing? Even the waiters here dress better. And that hair, what is that supposed to be?"

Was I dressed that poorly?

I glanced at myself. I was wearing a government-issued executive jacket, crisp and dignified and my hair was parted neatly in a standard 3/7 style. I was professional and respectful.

And yet, to them, I was nothing more than an afterthought.

With my line of work, wearing a luxury suit worth tens of thousands or sporting some flashy, high-end hairstyle wasn’t an option.

"Cassius, you used to be the top student. How did you end up like this?"

"Look at us; we all have cars now. At the very least, an Audi A6. And you? Not even a single ride to your name?"

"No car is one thing, but couldn’t you have at least booked a premium ride instead of hailing a regular taxi?"

"Taking a taxi is not bad enough, but couldn’t you have tried to dress up?"

From the moment I stepped out of the car, their taunts came at me like arrows, sharp and unrelenting. If an outsider had witnessed this scene, they’d think I was their sworn enemy rather than an old classmate.

Thorne strode up with a slow, deliberate air, his smirk brimming with mockery. He clapped a hand on my shoulder, the weight of ridicule pressing down with it.

"Come work at my company," he said smoothly. "I don’t have a good position for you, but I could let you be a janitor. At least then, I’d make sure you finally own a car, just so you can say you’re one of us."