Novels by The Heirless

The call ended, leaving Marcus alone with Victor and the weight of the people suffering because of the choices he'd made."My bodyguards," Marcus said suddenly. "Where are James and others?"Victor's expression told Marcus everything before he spoke. "They were ambushed this morning. Three vehicles boxed them in on the FDR Drive. Professional hit, military-grade weapons. James took two bullets to the chest. He's in surgery now. Marcus has a concussion and broken arm, but he'll recover.""How many more people have to get hurt before I end this?" Marcus asked, not really expecting an answer.His phone buzzed with another video message. This time, Daniel wasn't alone. He was surrounded by men, at least a dozen of them, all armed."Meet my new associates," Daniel said, gesturing to the mercenaries around him. "Former military contractors, currently unemployed and very motivated by the generous compensation I'm offering. We're going to play a game, Marcus. I'm going to keep hurting people

Dr. Sarah Mitchell's blood looked black under the streetlight, pooling on the sidewalk outside her office building where she'd been found beaten unconscious at 11 PM. Marcus stared at the crime scene photos Victor had pulled from his police contacts, feeling rage and guilt war for dominance in his chest.She'd helped him examine the forged documents, provided expert testimony that helped in the Bradford family's collapse. And now she was in Mount Sinai's ICU with a fractured skull and several internal injuries."She's stable," Victor said, setting down his phone after talking to someone at the hospital. "Broken ribs, concussion, and facial fractures. But she'll survive. They did this to send a message, not to kill.""What message?" Marcus asked."That Daniel can reach anyone in your life, and that helping you has consequences." Victor pulled up another file on his laptop. "It keeps getting worse. Margaret Chen's law firm received a bomb threat this morning. They evacuated the entire b

The invitation arrived by courier at dawn, delivered in a cream-colored envelope . Marcus opened it, reading the handwritten note inside with disbelief.“You've earned a real conversation. Come alone. Today at noon. – Father”Below the message was an address in Westchester."It's a trap." Victor said. "He's going to kill you”."Maybe." Marcus studied the invitation, looking for hidden meanings in his father's handwriting. "Or maybe he actually wants to talk.""Marcus, listen to yourself. You're walking into a compound filled with armed men." Victor's frustration was showing. "This isn't a conversation. It's an execution"Marcus's phone rang before he could respond. His mother."Don't go." Elena's voice was raw with fear that made Marcus's chest tighten. "Baby, please. Whatever your father is offering, whatever he's promising, it's a lie. He's going to kill you the moment you enter that compound. I know how he thinks. I was married to him for fifteen years.""Mom, I have to go. If I do

The makeup artist stepped back, studying Marcus's transformed face. She'd darkened his skin tone, reshaped his jawline with contouring, added subtle prosthetics that changed the angle of his nose, and styled his hair in a slicked-back fashion."Your own mother wouldn't recognize you," she said with satisfaction. "At least not from a distance."Marcus studied his reflection, seeing a stranger stare back. The transformation was remarkable, but it wouldn't hold up to close scrutiny. He'd need to stay moving, avoid familiar faces, and pray that Robert's people were too focused on the announcement to notice an extra guest in the crowd.Victor handed him the invitation, obtained through Margaret Chen's connections. It belonged to Christopher Ashford, a real estate developer who'd agreed to let Marcus use it in exchange for future collaboration."The evidence packets are ready," Victor said, showing Marcus a leather messenger bag containing twenty folders. Each one held the DNA evidence, fin

The courier arrived at Marcus's hotel room at exactly 8 AM, the third one this week, delivering legal documents. Marcus signed for the package without reading the courier's sympathetic expression, already knowing what the envelope contained before he opened it.Fifty million dollars.That was the price the Bradford family had placed on his silence.Marcus spread the lawsuit across the hotel room's desk. According to Bradford Industries' lawyers, his press conference had single-handedly destroyed decades of business relationships, tanked their stock value, and caused irreparable harm to their reputation. They wanted fifty million dollars in damages, a public apology, and a full retraction of every statement he'd made."It's actually impressive," Victor said from the doorway, reading over Marcus's shoulder. "They've managed to make you look responsible for every business problem they've had for the last five years. According to this, you're simultaneously an incompetent nobody and a cri

The fire investigator's flashlight beam cut through the smoke-damaged hallway, illuminating scorch marks that crawled up Marcus's apartment door like clawed fingers. Detective Sarah Chen, who has no relation with Marcus despite the shared surname, crouched near the point of origin."Accelerant," she said without looking up. "Professionally applied. Whoever did this knew exactly how to maximize damage while giving residents enough time to evacuate." She stood, brushing soot from her latex gloves. "You're very lucky, Mr. Laurent. Another five minutes and this entire floor would have been an inferno."Marcus watched firefighters moving through the charred remains of his second home. The place he'd moved to for safety had become another crime scene."Lucky," Marcus repeated. The word tasted like poison. "That's one way to describe it."James, his bodyguard, was already in an ambulance heading to Mount Sinai, his lungs scorched from evacuating elderly residents on the floor above. The para

Rafe finally stood up and dragged himself toward the sink and splashed cold water on his face, watching the pink-tinted drops fall into the basin. His reflection stared back, hollow eyes, bruised lip, jaw tight with exhaustion.He had almost died a few minutes ago.He pushed away from the mirror, pacing.It wasn’t just humiliation anymore. They actually wanted him gone.Then, a faint chime.The air in the room seemed to hum. Rafe froze. The reflection in the window flickered, then the System appeared again, lettering glowing faint blue across the glass.[SYSTEM ALERT: USER EXPOSED TOO EARLY] Threat Level: Critical. Observation Detected – Multiple Entities.Recommendation: Relocation Required.Rafe blinked hard, his breath catching. “What do you mean exposed?” he muttered. “You’re saying people know… about you?”The text pulsed.System: “Attention has been drawn to your sudden rise, Rafe Miller. Visibility threatens continuity.”Rafe rubbed his temples, forcing himself to think. His

London had a strange way of going quiet after midnight.The rain had stopped hours ago, but the streets still glistened under the orange lamplight, slick and reflective like sheets of glass.Rafe crossed the bridge toward South Bank, the faint hum of the Thames beneath him.His new suit hung perfectly, the expensive fabric hugging his shoulders, a small, quiet reminder that the man walking home tonight was not the same one who once bowed to the Li family’s insults.He felt lighter somehow.Not happy, just… focused.Every step brought him closer to something he couldn’t yet name.His phone buzzed in his pocket.[Sub-Alert: Unusual Movement Detected.]Rafe frowned. “Unusual movement?” he murmured.He stopped at the end of the bridge and glanced behind him. The street was mostly empty, a delivery van passing in the distance, a couple huddled under an umbrella, a lone cyclist gliding past.Everything looked normal.He shrugged it off and kept walking.By the time he reached the narrow str

The bell above the door chimed softly as Rafe turned toward the voice.Jacob Levi stood near the entrance of the luxury store, grinning like he owned the place. His navy suit was crisp, his tie knotted perfectly, and his eyes carried that same glint of entitlement Rafe remembered too well.“Rafe Miller,” Jacob drawled, walking closer with that slow, confident stride of someone who never once doubted the ground beneath him. “Didn’t expect to see you here. Lost, are we?”Rafe didn’t respond. He simply adjusted the jacket he was holding, his fingers brushing the fine wool fabric.Jacob laughed, shaking his head. “You always were full of surprises. From begging your wife for lunch money to browsing Hartmann suits? What’s next, a yacht?”Rafe exhaled through his nose, calm. The insults didn’t sting anymore. They just sounded small.“I heard about you,” Jacob continued, stepping closer until their reflections shared the same mirror. “The disgrace of the Li family. Raising a small dying cafe

Rain returned the following morning.It always did in London, falling in slow, apologetic sheets that blurred everything into grey.Rafe sat by the window of his modest South Bank flat, the glow of his laptop screen reflecting off the mug of black coffee beside him. The city outside hummed faintly, buses growling, footsteps splashing through puddles, a siren in the distance.On his screen, a spreadsheet blinked back at him.Company names. Stock prices. Notes scribbled like scattered thoughts.Finance for beginners, the title of the tab read.He leaned back and rubbed his eyes. Two weeks ago, he wouldn’t have cared about the importance of a portfolio. Now, he was consuming everything he could, equity, valuation, market trends, leverage ratios.Not because he suddenly adored numbers.But because numbers were the language of those who had ridiculed him. Those he wanted to crush.Clara’s father had once scoffed across their dinner table, his voice dripping with disdain.“You wouldn’t last

Rafe cursed under his breath, “Who the hell are you?” and chased after him.The rain hit the pavement in silver sheets as he burst through the cafe door.“Rafe? Where are you going?!”He ignored Amara’s calls, his attention drilled to one person. The system user.“Hey!” Rafe called out. The man didn’t stop.He moved fast, dancing through the crowd like smoke, slipping between pedestrians and puddles with so much precision.Rafe followed, shoving past people, ignoring their protests. His shoes splashed through puddles, breath clouding in the cold air.The man turned down a narrow side street, glancing back once, his eyes glowing faintly blue.Rafe’s pulse spiked. He really is a System user too.“Stop!” Rafe shouted. “You— you know about it, don’t you?”The man didn’t respond. Instead, he darted across the street as a car honked, brakes screeching inches away.Rafe barely cleared the next lane, his jacket sleeve brushing against a side mirror. His lungs burned, but adrenaline drowned mo

The rain had stopped by morning, leaving London wrapped in a grey haze.The streets glistened, buses hissed through puddles, and Rafe moved quietly among the crowd, just another face in the city that had already forgotten him.He stopped by a lamppost to check his phone.A faint blue flicker appeared in his vision.[SYSTEM MISSION #2: PROVE YOUR WORTH]Objective: Earn £10,000 profit in 48 hours without using System money.Reward: unknown.Penalty: Balance deduction – £1,000,000.He exhaled slowly, running a hand through his hair. “No pressure, huh?”Two days. No System funds.Just him, and his brain.And honestly comparing it to what he faced in the Li’s house, it was nothing.By afternoon, he wandered through South Bank’s quieter streets, the ones where old shops clung to life between shiny glass towers. Thaat’s when he saw it: “CLOSING DOWN SALE – 3 DAYS LEFT”, printed across the dusty window of a small café.He paused. The place looked dead — lights dimmed, furniture stacked near t