Adrian Cole; Return of the Lost Heir
Adrian Cole; Return of the Lost Heir
Author: Evie Penheart
Divorce
Author: Evie Penheart
last update2025-09-23 14:56:10

Chapter One

“Young Master, finally… I’ve found you.”

The plate slipped from Adrian’s fingers and clattered into the sink.

“Do I know you? Who's your young master?” He finally stopped washing the dishes, raised his head, staring at the woman in front of him.

Her dress was cut to perfection, her presence radiating authority, her beauty too polished for the sour air of grease and detergent. She didn’t belong in a place like this, and there was no way she had come here to eat.

She stepped closer, her perfume slicing through the stench of detergent and damp.

“My name is Isabella Reyes,” she replied with excitement. “And you… you’re not supposed to be here scrubbing dishes. You are Adrian Cole, the chairman of Cole's Conglomerate. One of the most powerful men in this country.” Her voice caught for the briefest second. “I’ve been searching for you for three years.”

Adrian stared at her, the words hitting like a punch to the ribs. Then, he shook his head and let out another laugh, because it sounded funny to him.

“Woman? You’ve got the wrong guy. I’m nobody. Just a dishwasher. See?”

Today is his anniversary with his wife Elena. He had been working

nonstop for almost 10 hours just to leave work early, pick up fresh ingredients, and cook her favorite meal.

And now this woman stepped in and told him he was actually one of the most powerful men in this country?

What a joke!

But Isabella didn’t waver. She reached into her bag and pulled out two things: a black card that gleamed under the flickering light, and a ring—ancient, etched with time, clearly treasured.

She extended them toward him.

“This card is yours. You’re a trillionaire.

And this ring… it belonged to your mother before she passed away. It was her most cherished possession. And it belongs to you now.”

Adrian didn’t want to look at them, but something in her tone left no room for argument. With a quiet sigh, he took the card casually, more to end the conversation than out of belief.

 “Keep your fairy tales, Miss Reyes. You’re wasting your time here. I’m not who you think I am.”

Isabella bit her lips, finally sighed quietly.

 If you don’t believe me, go to the bank and check the balance yourself. The password is your birthday.

With a deep bow—practically folding herself in half—she turned and walked out without another word,got in a luxurious sports car.

Even as he dismissed her, her words unsettled him in ways he couldn’t explain.

Three years ago, he had been nothing but a broken body.

He remembered opening his eyes in a strange bed, the world around him blank, his past wiped clean.

It was his wife’s father who had found him then—lying on the roadside, half-dead, locked in a coma for weeks.

 He never knew who he really was. But “chairman of a conglomerate” ? That’s ridiculous.

Adrian muttered under his breath, plunging his hands back into the sink.

But then the sound of polished footsteps came again. Different this time, but familiar colognes.

When Adrian turned, his breath caught.

His wife, Elena, stood in the doorway.

Her hair was styled to perfection, her makeup immaculate, exuding the poise of a successful woman.

And beside her was a man Adrian recognized instantly—Lucas Brown, the arrogant heir to one of the city’s four great families. His suit alone cost more than Adrian’s yearly wages.

“Elena?” Adrian’s voice cracked against the steam-thick air. “What are you doing here?”

Adrian… we need to talk.” Elena stepped forward, pulling a crisp folder from her bag.

The words carried a weight heavier than any plate he had scrubbed. What did she have to say that she can't wait for him to get home? She's never come to his working place to discuss no matter how important it was, not alone coming with Lucas.

This twisted his gut, before she even dropped the folder on the counter.

“Divorce papers.”

Adrian stared at them, his chest tightening until every breath hurt. “Divorce? Elena, what are you saying?”

Lucas stepped in smoothly, his tone laced with disdain. “She’s saying she’s outgrown this pathetic life. She’s a CEO now—do you really think a dishwasher fits by her side? She wanted to move on with someone who suited her status, and that person is me.”

Adrian’s fists clenched, the sting of the words slicing deep. But it wasn’t Lucas' words that broke him—it was Elena, her gaze unwavering, her voice calm but final.

“We’re no longer suited, Adrian. Our worlds… they don’t match anymore. Youre still stuck in the same place you were years ago, and Ive moved on. Were no longer compatible. I need someone who matches my ambitions, not someone holding me back.

She reached into her bag again, slid an envelope across the counter. “Take this, Adrian. It’s compensation. At least you won’t leave empty-handed.”

Adrian stared at it. His chest constricted, like all the air had been ripped from him. His voice came out low, feeling so hurt. “Compensation?

That’s what my years of support, sacrifice, and love amount to for you? A payoff?”

They’d been married for three years. And he had poured almost every ounce of his energy into their marriage.

Every decision he made, every sacrifice, was for her—for them. His career, his dreams, his time—they all took a backseat to her happiness.

Elena had always been his priority.

And now, this was what he got. How ironic!

Lucas laughed again, louder this time. “What did you expect? A gold medal for being a dutiful husband? Face it, Adrian, you were never her equal. She’s just trying to make it easier for you to step aside gracefully.”

Adrian’s eyes burned with suppressed fury, but he didn’t rise to the bait. He pushed the envelope back toward Elena, his voice sharp. “I don’t want your money.”

“Don’t be so dramatic,” Elena snapped, her tone icy. “I’m trying to be fair.”

“Fair?” Adrian said with a bitter laugh. “You think throwing money at me makes this fair? Don’t bother. I don’t need your pity or your charity.”

“ If you’ve decided to leave, I won’t stop you. But don’t try to buy what we had. We weren’t a transaction, Elena.” He sneered, his gaze fixed on Elena.

The weight of betrayal sat heavy in his chest, but he forced his hand to remain steady as he picked up the pen and signed his name on the divorce papers.

When he was done, he placed them back on the desk and looked at her one last time. “I hope your new life is everything you want it to be,” he said, his voice laced with quiet finality.

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