"My Father...."I couldn’t help but frown. My father? That had to be a joke. Or worse, a scam. I grew up in an orphanage, for God’s sake. I didn’t have a father, not one I knew of. Whoever this woman was, she must’ve found my number online and thought I’d fall for some story.The idea that some stranger wanted to hand me fifteen million dollars was laughable. I almost hung up. But something about her tone, too composed made me hesitate.“Pardon me, Mr. Cole,” she said softly, as if she could read my doubts through the silence. “Perhaps I didn’t explain it clearly. You’re not an orphan. You were separated from your family under tragic circumstances. Your biological father, Mr. Alexander Cole, never stopped searching for you. Two days ago, his team finally located you, and your identification has been confirmed.”My stomach dropped. “Wait—what?” I asked, the words barely making it out. My chest felt tight, like all the air had been sucked out of the room.Alexander Cole. That name alone

Donovan kept talking, but Clara didn’t even spare him a glance. Her sharp eyes scanned the crowd as if she was searching for someone important.The murmur among the guests swelled up.“Did you hear that? He said Cole Group!” someone gasped.“Wait—the Cole Group?!” another voice echoed in disbelief.“No wonder Mr. Donovan’s acting so respectful! It all makes sense now—she’s from the Cole Group!”“That’s insane! I’ve only ever heard their name on the news!”Within seconds, the whispers grew louder, people elbowing one another, craning their necks just to catch a glimpse of Clara. Even those who had no idea what was happening started connecting the dots from the murmurs around them. I stood there, speechless.I’d always heard about the Cole Group, the way their reach extended across every major industry in finance, tech, real estate, energy—you name it. People spoke about them like they were gods of the business world, untouchable and ruthless. But to me, it had always been just talking

The Vulcanus truly lived up to its name. Every inch of the luxury car screamed wealth — smooth leather that wrapped around me like a second skin, a subtle scent of sandalwood and money in the air, and the kind of silence that made you forget the chaos of the world outside. I leaned slightly against the seat, staring out the tinted window as the nightscape of Miami zipped past. The world blurred into ribbons of neon and streetlights — blue, gold, red — all blending together in the darkness. Somehow, it felt strangely peaceful. But no matter how comforting the ride was, my heart still hadn’t completely settled. Tonight had been a storm. Too much had happened. Too many changes. Just this morning, I was a broke student. By nightfall, I was sitting in the back of a million-dollar car beside a woman whose mere presence could silence a room. The thought still felt unreal. But the doubts that had lingered earlier were gone. No con artist could’ve staged what happened at the club entrance. The