CHAPTER 229: SENDING HIM BACK TO WHERE HE CAME FROM

Chapter 229 - Sending Him Back To Where He Came From

LOGAN’S POV

"May I know the reason why you want them fired?" the man on the phone asked, his voice sharp and firm.

Ms. Agnes didn’t hesitate. She explained everything. Every damn thing.

She didn’t sugarcoat it. She told him how the cooks starved students who paid thousands. How they stood there, arms folded, acting like they were doing us a favor. How they had the nerve to insult us and show zero remorse.

By the time she finished, I could feel the heat rise in the kitchen. The shame cooking on their faces.

"That is... absolutely disgusting," the man said slowly. His voice cracked with disappointment and disgust.

"We sent enough food supplies to feed your students for over a week—maybe even two! There is no reason—none at all—that food should be finishing in thirty damn minutes."

He paused. And I could almost hear him shaking his head through the phone.

"I’m honestly ashamed. This is a huge embarrassment to the school and to me personally."

That was it. I turned to the so-called staff and smirked like the villain they just unlocked.

Now this... this is what I like to hear.

Ms. Agnes didn’t stop. She was on fire now.

"Anyways," she said calmly, "you can talk to them if you want. Apologize on their behalf. Make peace with the universe. I don’t care."

She narrowed her eyes.

"But me? I’m done with them. I mean it—I am never allowing these people to cook or serve my students ever again. I want a new team. People who actually know how to do their job and have the right attitude."

She wasn’t finished.

"I want them here before breakfast. I want a team who can handle this job with respect. And I want full meals—with dessert—available twenty hours a day."

The man on the phone didn’t even argue.

"You got it," he said, without pause. "Everything you said. Consider it done. And I’m sorry, again. Deeply sorry."

She accepted the apology with a small nod, then ended the call.

Silence fell over the kitchen as every one of them was in disbelief.

Ms. Agnes stared at them, calm. "Any last words," she asked, "before you pack your rags and get out of this kitchen?"

They stood there frozen—still in shock. Still processing.

They weren’t dreaming, but they sure looked like they were trying to wake up.

I folded my arms again, leaning back with a lazy grin.

Oh, now this... this is my kind of entertainment.

She took a step forward and looked them dead in the eye.

"You have three minutes to gather your things and leave. I’ll be standing right here. Watching every second."

Still, they hesitated.

"Please," one of them finally muttered, "we need a bit of privacy to pack and clean up properly. Just a few minutes alone—"

Ms. Agnes cut him off before he could finish.

"And why, exactly," she asked, "should I give you that?"

No answer.

"Oh wait," she said, voice rising, "let me guess. You want us to leave so you can sneak out all the supplies you’ve been hoarding, right? All the hidden items you were supposed to use for my students’ meals? You want to take them with you?"

The cooks stared at the floor like little kids caught stealing candy.

"Yeah... that’s not happening," she said, shaking her head.

And then—boom.

She cussed.

"I swear—hell no. I’m never going to let that happen."

I nearly choked.

Did she just curse?

Ms. Agnes. The calm, elegant, rule-following principal. Cussing?

I couldn’t count how many times she had sworn just tonight alone.

Guess even angels have limits.

The cooks finally realized we weren’t leaving. They gave us a nasty look, but their defeat was loud. Bitter.

They grabbed their boxes, bags, and whatever dignity they had left and started to pack.

Ms. Agnes glanced at the time.

"You have thirty seconds left," she said, and then started counting out loud. "Thirty... twenty-nine... twenty-eight..."

That was when the panic hit them.

They scrambled. Running around like the kitchen was on fire. Plates clattering. Boxes being dragged. Feet stomping like they were racing the clock.

By the time she got to "ten," they were already halfway out the door.

But just as they reached the exit, all six of them turned back and stared at us. Their faces twisted with hate, like we just ruined their lives.

One of them spat the words out.

"I hope you both go to hell... and burn to absolute ashes."

"We will... if only you go first," Ms. Agnes told them, her lips curled in a wicked little smirk.

That was it.

I lost it. I burst out laughing like I’d been holding it in for hours.

The cooks? They didn’t say a word. They turned away and left the kitchen, dragging their worn-out pride and bags behind them like losers in a cheap movie.

I was still laughing when my stomach suddenly twisted—loud enough to remind me I was one minute away from blacking out.

I grabbed the nearest table for support.

"Ms. Agnes," I groaned, my hand on my stomach, "I’m very hungry. And I swear, I’m going to die any moment if I don’t eat something."

I said it with what little energy I had left. It wasn’t a joke. I was dizzy. My legs were wobbling like wet noodles.

Her face immediately changed.

"No, no, no, Logan!" she said, almost scolding me like a mom. "You cannot say that. You are not going to die—never! Not on my watch."

She placed her hands gently on my arms like she was trying to calm a kid from passing out. I knew she meant well, but I wanted her to know I wasn’t being dramatic. I was seriously crashing.

"I just meant I’m really hungry," I muttered. "Like... my soul is leaving my body."

She sighed with relief. "Follow me. I saved some extra food earlier. I’m glad I did, because honestly, I don’t know what would’ve happened to you tonight."

"Simple," I muttered under my breath. "I would’ve fainted right there in the hallway, and then you’d have to call my dad and explain why his son collapsed from starvation."

We started walking, or at least, she did. I followed her like a zombie on his last breath. My legs were dragging, my mouth dry, and my head spinning.

When we reached a hallway, she turned to me and said, "Wait here. I’ll be right back."

I leaned against the wall, barely holding it together.

A minute later, she came back holding a takeout container. Without saying anything else, she handed it to me.

I grabbed it immediately without even looking at it. I didn’t say thank you. I didn’t even care what was inside.

If she handed me raw rice and ketchup at that moment, I’d still eat it with joy.

I turned around and started walking back to my room—fast. But not too fast, because every time I picked up speed, the world tilted and spun like I was inside a damn washing machine.

So I slowed down. Step by step, like I was walking through mud. My hands were shaking. My knees barely worked.

Again—fuck Tyler.

If that bastard had just brought me my food like I asked, I wouldn’t be on the edge of collapse right now.

When I finally got to my room, I didn’t even bother locking the door. I went straight to the bed, dropped my ass on it, and opened the container like a man in the desert finding water.

And let me tell you—whatever was inside? It smelled like heaven.

"Mmmmh," I groaned as I took the first bite. "This is so damn good."

I wasn’t sure if it was actually good or if my starving body was just being dramatic. Either way, I didn’t care. The food went straight from container to mouth, no breaks.

I didn’t even breathe properly. I just ate.

I must’ve finished it in under three minutes. I barely blinked.

And just like that, my strength came back. My brain cleared up. My muscles stopped twitching. I could finally sit straight without feeling like I was about to fall over.

I sat there in silence, catching my breath.

And now that I had energy again, all I could think about was that asshole who was supposed to bring me that meal.

Tyler.

Oh yeah. I had unfinished business with him.

I leaned back on the bed and let out a deep sigh. "Thank goodness for Ms. Agnes," I mumbled. "Because what would’ve happened tonight..."

I didn’t even want to think about it. If I hadn’t eaten, I honestly might’ve passed out. It was that bad.

I stood up slowly, went to the door, and locked it from the inside with the back bolt. That lock? Once it’s on, no one can open it from the outside.

I wasn’t in the mood for visitors.

I laid back on the bed, finally ready to rest—until about five minutes later, I heard a knock.

I didn’t move.

Another knock.

Still nothing from me.

"Logan..." a familiar voice called. "Please open the door."

I knew that voice.

Tyler.

I closed my eyes and inhaled sharply.

"Did you bring my food?" I asked without getting up.

There was a short silence.

"No... I didn’t. But please open up so I can explain—"

I cut him off without hesitation.

"Then go find somewhere else to spend the night."