All Chapters of THE RETURN OF THE TRILLIONAIRE HEIR: Chapter 51
- Chapter 60
94 chapters
Chapter Fifty- one
Eliron’s mind was racing as he walked briskly toward his car, rain misting against his jacket. Rico West—recently found, ragged, and disheveled—didn’t look like a man capable of hiding secrets. Yet, the more Eliron thought about it, the less sure he became. Rico had been moving carefully, quietly, concealing Lady Eleanor’s existence from everyone in the West family. He had acted heartbroken, pretending his mother was dead. Even Eliron, who had found him has only just discovered the truth. Why hadn’t Rico said anything? Eliron muttered under his breath, unlocking the car with trembling fingers. Was he planning something? He slid into the driver’s seat, wiping the fog from the windshield, and stared at the small red dot blinking steadily on the tracker mounted on the dashboard. Rico was still on the move, heading back toward the city. Eliron frowned. Rico had always been clever, but this level of secrecy—this precision—felt calculated. A tight knot formed in his chest. He had ser
Chapter Fifty - Two
Rico left the hospital a while later. As he was leaving he noticed a commotion—nurses rushing, a gurney being wheeled through the hallway, the metallic clatter of the wheels echoing off the walls. The patient was obscured under a thin sheet, the beeping of monitors and the sharp scent of antiseptic cutting through the air. Something about the urgency in their movements made his stomach tighten.The rain had stopped, but the streets still shone under the soft streetlights. Puddles covered the ground, shaking when the wind blew, reflecting bits of gold and blue from the city lights. He walked slowly toward his car, he had packed at the back of the hospital. As he drove out, he noticed a cluster of police officers gathered ahead—probably an accident scene, judging by the stretcher being rushed past him. He didn’t linger to watch; he eased the car forward and drove on.The cool air brushed his face, but it didn’t clear his thoughts. His mother’s voice kept echoing in his head. > “
Chapter Fifty- Three
The younger officer took a cautious step forward. “Sir, we still need your name before we proceed.” Rico didn’t answer. He simply looked at the officer, then at Ramon. The quiet stretched between them — heavy, uneasy, like the air before a storm. Melinda’s heart pounded, a nervous rhythm she couldn’t control. She tried to smile, though her lips trembled. Whoever this man was, he wasn’t ordinary. His composure, his silence — it carried authority that made even the officers hesitate. Maybe her plan hadn’t failed entirely. Maybe she could still turn this to her favor. He was from the West house — that much she caught from Ramon’s angry words. And the West family meant wealth, power, and influence beyond reach. If she played her cards right, this man could be her ticket out of Ramon. She was already bored of him and he didn't give her the money she needed. He now had excuses and that was not good for her. Ramon, of course, couldn’t see it. He never could. He swallowed, then lif
Chapter Fifty - Four
The rain fell in relentless silver sheets, blurring the streetlights until the world looked half-drowned. Flashlights cut through the downpour, slicing across the glistening pavement as two officers moved around the car. Their boots splashed in shallow puddles, their murmurs low and careful, like men afraid to draw the wrong attention. Rico West stood by the open door of the car, calm beneath the umbrella held over his head. The storm didn’t seem to touch him. Even soaked light reflected off his coat, tracing the cold, deliberate lines of his posture. He didn’t need to speak to command the space; silence did that for him. A few feet away, Melinda shivered. Her clothes clung to her skin, her hair damp against her cheek. She wrapped her arms around herself, trying to look anywhere but at the two men, the one who terrified her with his power, and the one who terrified her with his temper. Ramon Ortega paced beside the patrol car, muttering beneath his breath. His soaked jacket stuck
Chapter Fifty - Five
Rain slammed against the tall windows, relentless and heavy, like the sky itself was pressing down on the mansion. Damian’s hands gripped the edge of the mahogany table so hard his knuckles ached. His chest felt tight, his stomach twisting in knots, but he forced himself to stay still. Panic clawed at him, but he couldn’t let it show—not here, not now. Helena stepped closer, her eyes sharp, worry plain in every line of her face. “Damian… what happened?” Her voice was low, urgent, almost pleading. He ran a hand through his hair, trying to steady himself. “The call… it dropped,” he said, teeth gritted. “He said he found something… interesting.” Helena frowned, her gaze flicking toward the phone on the table. “Then try calling him again. Now.” “I already did,” Damian said. His voice was tight, almost brittle. “No connection. I… I think something’s happened.” Cassendra leaned casually against the wall, arms crossed, smirk plastered on her face like she was watching a drama unfold. “
Chapter Fifty-Six
“Trauma team! We have one coming in!” The words cut through the hospital corridor like a knife, urgent and sharp. The stretcher rattled across the polished floor, wheels squealing as paramedics struggled to keep pace. Rainwater dripped from the man’s soaked coat, running into streaks of dried blood, mixing the smell of iron with the sharp tang of wet fabric. Cuts and abrasions marked his face and arms, raw and angry under the fluorescent lights. Each shallow, ragged breath made his chest rise and fall unevenly, and a low, guttural groan escaped him, echoing off the walls. It carried a helplessness that made even seasoned nurses pause. A police officer fell in step beside the stretcher, notebook clutched in hand. “High-speed collision,” he said tersely. “Male, approximately fifty years old. Severe trauma—multiple injuries. No one else involved. Face badly damaged—ID unknown.” Another officer added, voice clipped, tight with concern, “The car’s destroyed. There may be documents
Chapter Fifty- Seven
The first light of dawn barely touched the West estate gates as Rico’s car rolled slowly up the long driveway.Rainwater shimmered on the pavement, reflecting the pale gold of the morning sun, yet even that fragile beauty felt hollow, dwarfed by the weight pressing through the mansion’s walls.The West mansion loomed dark and silent, its grandeur magnified by the shadows stretching across the wet marble from last night’s storm. Inside, the servants moved quietly, careful not to disturb the taut, almost brittle atmosphere.But the faint hum of activity felt more like nervous breathing than calm. Something was about to snap.Rico stepped out of the car, water dripping from his coat, hair plastered against his forehead, droplets stinging his eyes. He swiped at them with the back of his hand, irritation flaring at the intrusion of something as simple as rain. His shoes left dark prints across the polished floor as he strode inside, each step deliberate, echoing softly in the hallway.He d
Chapter Fifty- Eight
Melinda and Ramon drove home in silence. The hum of the car engine was the only sound between them, thick and heavy, pressing against her chest like a physical weight. Rain streaked the windows, blurring the city lights as they passed. A cold draft whispered through the car from the broken window Ramon had slammed in a fit of anger last night, and she shivered despite the warmth inside. The air felt sharp, biting, almost accusing, reminding her of his impulsiveness and the fragility of her own patience. Her thoughts drifted unbidden to the man from earlier—the master of the West family, the one who could give her everything she had ever wanted: luxury, security, freedom. Not Ramon, with his temper, his broken promises, his “comfortable” wealth that didn’t stretch to the life she had imagined. She pictured a world of glittering hallways, opulent rooms, and evenings where worry was a foreign word. Her pulse quickened at the thought, a sour twist of longing tightening in her stom
Chapter Fifty- Nine
The West mansion was unnervingly still that morning. The rain had stopped, leaving the air damp, heavy with the scent of wet marble and ozone. The faint drip from the roof echoed softly in the halls, a ghostly counterpoint to the silence. Rico climbed the staircase slowly, each step echoing off the polished marble. The silence felt anything but peaceful. He sensed it pressing at the edges of his awareness, like the faint pressure of water on the skin, suffocating and constant. Even the subtle hum of distant servants felt intrusive, reminding him that the mansionand everyone within it had eyes and ears on him. At the top of the stairs, Zaya waited outside his room, hands folded neatly, posture impeccable despite the early hour, though a faint crease of worry around her eyes didn’t escape him. “Your bath is ready, young master. I used eucalyptus oils. They’ll help with the fatigue,” she said softly, words careful, almost reverent. Rico nodded faintly, face unreadable, though a fli
Chapter Sixty
Melinda zipped open her suitcase, tossing in clothes and a few personal items. Each fold, each shove of fabric into the bag, reminded her that she could always take care of herself—by finding another man willing to pay for her lifestyle. At least then, no one could ever hurt her for asking for a little luxury. Her thoughts wandered to the life she wanted—the one she had always imagined, the reason she had left Rico, the delivery boy. Glittering hallways, opulent rooms, evenings free from worry. Jewelry she didn’t have to save for, dresses she didn’t have to choose between, vacations that didn’t require compromise. Ramon had offered scraps; she wanted everything. “It’s better to leave that good-for-nothing man,” she muttered under her breath, fingers trembling slightly—not from fear, but anticipation. She straightened, voice firm in her own head. “I am Melinda. I can get any man I want. Any man who can give me what I deserve.” Her chest tightened as she packed. If Ramon tried to a