Adrian Cole; Return of the Lost Heir

Invitation

Chapter Four

Margaret and Sophia left the bank with their faces dark and twisted, though they dared not utter another word after Catherine Moretti’s warning. Humiliated and stripped of their bronze cards, they clung to each other as they stepped into the sunlight.

But beneath their silence burned resentment—resentment aimed squarely at Adrian.

“That stray dog won’t be laughing for long,” Margaret hissed. “The moment the bank investigates, they’ll discover that card is fake. And when they do, not even that ice queen Catherine Moretti will be able to protect him. He’ll be dragged off in chains, and the consequences he faces will make today look merciful.”

Sophia’s lips curled into a bitter smile. “Let him bask in the spotlight for now. The higher he climbs, the harder he’ll fall.”

Margaret pulled out her phone at once. She dialed Elena, her tone urgent, weaving lies with practiced ease.

“Elena, listen carefully—Adrian hit me. And worse, he’s mixed up with criminals. He showed the bank a forged black card and tricked that woman Moretti into believing him. But it won’t last. When the truth comes out, he’ll be arrested—and so will anyone who defends him. Do you hear me? You need to cut ties before you’re dragged down with him.”

Elena froze. The words pierced her like a knife.

“What? He… he hit you? And forged a black card?” Her chest tightened, disbelief warring with the trust she still wanted to cling to.

“You think I’d lie about this?” Margaret’s voice trembled just enough to sound convincing. “I saw it myself. He’s gone too far, Elena. If you care at all about your reputation, you’ll stay away from him. Better yet—convince him to surrender to the police. It’s the only way he’ll survive what’s coming.”

When the call ended, Elena sat rigid in her chair, her phone trembling in her grip. The man she once called her husband—the man she had just divorced—was suddenly painted as a criminal in her mind. The ache in her chest deepened. Against her better judgment, she dialed Adrian’s number.

He answered on the second ring.

“Elena?”

Her voice shook, her words spilling like arrows.

“Adrian, how could you? You hit my mother? And this nonsense with a forged black card—what are you thinking? Fraud, Adrian? Is this what you’ve become? You need to turn yourself in before it gets worse. Don’t drag this out.”

Silence stretched on the other end.

Adrian’s eyes narrowed, his tone turning cold, colder than she had ever heard before.

“So that’s what she told you.”

“Adrian, don’t deny it—”

“I don’t need to deny anything. Because I did nothing wrong. I never touched your mother, and I’ve committed no crime. If you can’t believe in my character after everything…” He let out a short, bitter laugh. “Then there’s nothing left to say.”

The line went dead.

Elena lowered the phone slowly, her chest tightening with conflicting emotions. She wanted to rush to him, to demand the truth to his face, but her schedule chained her down. Tonight, she had to attend a charity dinner with Lucas—an event filled with the city’s elites. Adrian would have to wait. She told herself she’d confront him afterward, though unease lingered in her heart.

Meanwhile, back at the bank, Catherine Moretti led Adrian into the VIP room with the kind of respect that silenced every whisper in the hall.

Inside, the atmosphere shifted entirely. Plush leather seats, crystal chandeliers, polished oak tables—this was a space reserved for only the most powerful clients.

“Mr. Cole,” Catherine said softly, gesturing to the monitor before him, “please, check the balance on your account"

Isabella words rings in her ear. " The password is your birthday.”

Adrian hesitated only briefly before entering the numbers.

The screen blinked. Then the balance appeared.

Trillions.

His breath caught, his hand gripping the edge of the desk. His heart pounded in his chest as reality sank in. Isabella had not lied. The card was real—and the wealth behind it was beyond comprehension.

Catherine glanced at the number and for a rare moment, her professional mask slipped. Even she was stunned. She straightened quickly, bowing her head with genuine respect.

“Mr. Cole… you are one of the bank’s highest-level clients. From this moment forward, anything you need, the National Bank will accommodate. We manage countless industries and investment projects across the country. If you require anything, you may contact me directly.”

Adrian remained silent, staring at the numbers on the screen, the weight of it pressing against his chest. Trillions. Yet instead of joy, a dull ache filled him—an emptiness he couldn’t explain.

Breaking the silence, Catherine’s voice softened.

“There’s a charity dinner this evening. Many of our most distinguished clients will attend. There will also be an auction… and some rare items will be up for bid. Perhaps you may find something that interests you?”

Adrian was about to refuse. He had no interest in dinners or auctions.

Until his eyes fell on the auction catalog Catherine placed before him.

And there it was.

A ring. The design was nearly identical to the one Isabella had given him. But where his bore one half of a pattern, this one carried the other half. Together, they formed a complete design.

The sight of it struck him like lightning. His vision blurred, a sharp flash of pain searing his mind. Fragments of memory—shadows, voices, —clawed at the edges of his consciousness before vanishing.

Adrian’s chest heaved as he steadied himself. One thing was clear. This ring was no coincidence. It was tied to his missing past.

He clenched the catalog, his voice low and resolute.

“I’ll be at that dinner.”

Catherine’s eyes gleamed, though she masked her satisfaction with a polite nod.

“Very well, Mr. Cole. I’ll have a place reserved for you.”

Adrian leaned back, closing his eyes briefly, the image of the ring burned into his mind. Whatever the truth was behind his lost years—it was waiting for him at that dinner.