Oswald led Bruce down a large hallway, lit by beautiful chandelier lights. The walls were lined with hundreds of paintings; each framed in gold and dark wood.
The faces in the paintings were of men and women dressed in Renaissance style clothes. Later generations were in tailored coats, then military uniforms and finally, modern clothing. Oswald stopped before the first painting. "This is where it all began," he said gently, "In the late sixteenth century, the shepherd family built its foundation rearing sheep." "At the time, sheep were considered wealth. The wool and meat brought endless profits. The Shepherd family saw an opportunity and traded their wool at a large scale." "They exported their wool across all of Europe down to the middle east. Gold flowed like a river into the Shepherd's pockets. It was the golden era." Oswald moved to the next painting. "As the centuries ran, the shepherd family shifted to banking. They funded merchants, insured voyages, and lent to Kings." Further down the hall, Oswald showed Bruce paintings of men in military coats standing beside cannons and ammunition factories. "When the First World War began," Oswald continued. "The shepherd family diverged fully into defense. They manufactured and supplied nations with weapons, logistics and steel. This was the industrial era." Bruce followed Oswald as they continued walking, his brain blown away by the long history of his family. The paintings were now photo portraits of men in modern day business suits, sky scrappers and satellites. "In the twentieth century," Oswald went on, "the shepherd family withdrew from weaponry manufacturing permanently. Instead, they focused more on technology, nuclear energy and global banking—the New Age era." He stopped at the final series of portraits, turning to face Bruce. "These are your family's history of five centuries. This is how the Shepherd family generated its enormous wealth." Bruce swallowed. "Unbelievable." "You had better believe it," Oswald chuckled lightly. "The conglomerate's total value is estimated at $250 trillion. Out of that, $100 trillion has been secured as personal family holdings." Oswald paused, smiling widely at Bruce. "And now, all that money is yours—as it's rightful heir." Bruce's thoughts rang inside his head like a bell. "I don't get it," he muttered. "If I'm truly the rightful heir, then why was I sent away?" Oswald gently placed a hand at Bruce’s back, guiding him toward a single portrait at the end of the hall. "This is your father," he said quietly, "Alistair Shepherd." Bruce's eyes widened. He could see the resemblance in their facial features. "Before you were born," Oswald continued, "Alistair had many affairs with numerous women. And over time, these women came forward with children, all claiming to be his." Oswald exhaled softly. "It was a messy situation. At the time, DNA testing was still inaccessible. There were too many claims, too many children." "The family faced a potential succession disaster," Oswald said gravely. "Then your father made a decision. Every child was sent back to their mother." "Each would later undergo DNA testing when the technology matured. Until then, no one would be acknowledged as an heir." "Where does that fit me in?" Bruce asked. Oswald's voice lowered. "Your mother sadly passed away while giving birth to you. She was your father's personal secretary." Oswald paused, watching Bruce's shocking reaction. "In order to protect you from the family chaos, Alistair entrusted me with the responsibility to keep you safe. He feared that being raised within the Shepherd estate would place a target on your back." Bruce was beginning to put the pieces together as the truth unfolded. Oswald went on. "I handed you over to an old friend of mine. Someone I trusted completely." Bruce caught his breath sharply. "Caro's late grandmother?" Oswald nodded. "I've known her for years. It was me who arranged the contract marriage between you and Caro." Bruce felt his pulse quicken. Now it all made perfect sense. "Once your safety was assured," Oswald continued, "we began the long process of DNA testing. Over the years, more than two hundred individuals came forward, all claiming to be Alistair’s child." "Every single DNA test came back negative," Oswald said calmly. "Not one of them carried Shepherd's blood." Bruce couldn't believe his ears. "That's insane. Out of two hundred children not a single one was his?" Oswald nodded. "This was a relief to Alistair but soon, your father grew anxious. He needed an heir to rule the shepherd empire. Without an heir, vultures would swoon in and take everything." Oswald turned to face Bruce fully. "That was when I remembered you. I conducted the test multiple times from multiple labs." Bruce heart raced. "And the test results?" Oswald paused, pulling out a lap result and handling it over to Bruce. "Each result confirmed the same truth. You are Alistair Shepherd's only biological son. Sole heir to the Shepherd Conglomerate."Latest Chapter
Dinner with Bruce
Later that evening, Harold Robinson entered the hotel where Bruce was staying for their dinner meeting. He had spent the whole day making calls and calling in favors, searching for a way to escape the trap that had closed around him. But still, nothing had worked. Every door he knocked on was slammed shut in his face. Even the president wouldn't pick his calls. It felt like some unknown force was working against him. As he stepped into the hotel lobby, a young woman in a crisp uniform came up to him. "Mr. Robinson? We've been expecting you. Please, follow me."She led him through the lobby, past curious glances and whispered murmurs, to a private dining room at the back of the hotel. The room was elegant and intimate, with a single table draped in white linen and lit by a single candle. The walls were covered in dark wood paneling, and a large window offered a view of the city lights.Harold sat down heavily in one of the chairs. He didn't order anything, not even water. He simply
Lawsuits part 2
The hospital corridor felt sterile and cold, the fluorescent lights humming above as Harold Robinson paced back and forth like a caged animal. He held the phone to his ear, his voice sharp as a two edge sword. "I don't care what it takes," he snarled. "File the lawsuit. Assault, breaking and entering, attempted murder—I want that bastard buried under so many charges he'll never see the light of day again!" He hung up and immediately dialed another number. "Hello? Yes, this is Harold Robinson speaking. I need a favor. I want the case against Bruce Smith to be fast-tracked. No excuses." Just then, the family doctor stepped out of the surgical ward. Harold straightened up, his anger quickly giving way to concern. "How is he?" he demanded. "Is my son going to be alright?" The doctor nodded grimly. "He'll recover. However, the damage was severe. His jaw was broken in three places. He lost several teeth. He has severe injury to his face and ribs. He'll need reconstructive surgery an
lawsuits
Bruce's car rolled up to the hotel entrance, tires softly hissing on the wet pavement. With his arm steady around her waist, Bruce helped Caro as she leaned into him. Her body shook, still trembling from what she'd been through, her face buried against his shoulder.He led her through the lobby, past the night clerk who wisely said nothing, and into the elevator. They rode in silence to the top floor, where Bruce had reserved an entire suite for his stay.The room was spacious and warm, with soft lighting and a large bed covered in crisp white linens. Bruce led Caro to the bed and helped her sit down."Stay here," he instructed. "I'm calling a doctor."Caro nodded weakly, her eyes fixed on the floor.Bruce pulled out his phone and made a call. Within fifteen minutes, a discreet doctor appeared at the door, carrying a bag. He was a middle-aged man with kind eyes and a calm demeanor, the kind of doctor who had seen too much and learned not to ask questions.He examined Caro gently, cl
The monster in the mansion
Jake jumped back, his belt falling from his hand as if it had suddenly turned into a snake. His eyes widened with shock as he gaped at Bruce. "How the hell did you get in here?!"Bruce didn't answer. His gaze was fixed on the welts crisscrossing Caro's arms, on the black and blue bruises already forming around her eyes, and the tears streaming down her face. She looked up at him, her eyes filled with terror.Looking at his ex-wife at this state, something inside Bruce snapped. Anger he never knew he had surged inside him like a violent storm. He turned to Jake, his voice shaking with rage. "You bastard. How dare you beat her?"Jake recovered quickly, his shock giving way to rage. He stepped forward, his chest puffed out and his fists clenched at his sides. "This is none of your business! She's my wife! I can do whatever I want with her! Now get the hell out of my house before I call the police!"Bruce neither moved nor flinched. He walked toward Jake, his footsteps slow and his e
Help
Bruce's private jet sat on the tarmac, its smooth white fuselage shining brightly beneath the runway lights as he drew near. The engines hummed softly, ready for takeoff. A stewardess stood at the bottom of the stairs, her smile polished and professional."Welcome aboard, Mr. Shepherd. We're ready for departure."Bruce nodded absentmindedly, his hand resting on the railing. He set one foot on the first step, then paused.Something felt off. A cold, creeping dread that settled in his chest and refused to let go. There was no logical explanation for it, but the ring on his finger pulsed warmly against his skin, as if trying to tell him something. He turned and looked back at the city lights in the distance. Caro was out there. And something was terribly wrong."Mr. Shepherd?" the stewardess asked, her smile fading. "Is everything alright?"Bruce didn't answer. He stood frozen on the steps, his mind racing. He remembered the hatred in Jake's eyes at the courthouse, how swiftly he for
Trapped
Bruce leaned against his car, feeling the cool metal against his back as he gazed up at the towering walls of the Robinson mansion. Half an hour earlier, he had driven Caro home to reconcile with her husband. Just as he waited for her to return, his phone buzzed in his hand. He glanced at the screen; it was Caro. He answered. "So, how did it go?" Bruce inquired. "Did he ask for a divorce?" "It's alright," Caro said, her voice relieved. "Everything is fine with my husband. He forgave me." Bruce's brow tightened. He had driven Caro here himself, expecting her to return with divorce papers in hand. Both expected Jake's refusal to forgive her court betrayal. Bruce had been ready to fund her new life and to protect her if Jake discarded her. But forgiveness? That was unexpected. "I don't know," Bruce said slowly. "This feels off. Don't you think it's odd he's forgiving you so easily?" "It doesn't matter," Caro replied. "As long as I have my husband back. It's better than being
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Reader Comments
I am liking this storyline so far ..., keep up the good work