From Dust To Dynasty

7

"Don't listen to him, Father!" Tony, William’s cousin and the guy who got married to Caleb's girlfriend, roared, stepping forward, his eyes blazing with contempt. "He's nothing but a scheming opportunist! Caleb will do anything for money, he’s a scammer, a leech trying to cling to any wealth he can find. He’s probably cooked this whole thing up just to get a piece of the Reed fortune!" tony’s voice was laced with venom, his accusations echoing through the suddenly tense silence. "He's a con artist, plain and simple, always has been!"

Tony continued .. "He'll do anything for money! He's just a common delivery boy who extorts money from desperate women!"

Caleb clenched his fists, resisting the urge to strike.

"Don't worry," Tony continued, a venomous smile. "I'll make sure he learns his place this time and not ruin your engagement cousin." He responded to Leo, He raised his hand, aiming for Caleb's neck.

Just as Tony's palm descended, a blur. Mr. Callahan himself moved, catching Tony's wrist in an iron grip. "Enough, Tony," his voice was cold, sharp. He held Tony's arm, his gaze fixed on Caleb. He then slowly, deliberately, brought out the locket he had been holding.

"Whose necklace is this?" Mr. Callahan's voice was calm, but it held an undeniable authority that silenced Tony instantly. Everyone's gaze shifted to the locket.

Diana looked at Caleb, then back at the locket in Mr. Callahan's hand. She pointed at Caleb. "Is this not your necklace?, how did it get to Mr Callahan?." The necklace fell down during Tony and Caleb's argument, Mr Robert Callahan's assistant saw it and thought it belonged to his boss and gave it to him.

Immediately, Caleb’s eyes locked onto the locket. He lunged forward, a desperate need filling him, trying to snatch it from Mr. Callahan's grasp. But Mr. Callahan held it back, his grip firm.

"Where did you get this necklace from?" Mr. Callahan asked again, his gaze piercing. His voice was no longer calm, but held a raw intensity.

Caleb hesitated, a wall of privacy rising within him. "It's supposed to be private," he mumbled, his voice tight, his eyes fixed on the locket.

He instinctively reached for it. "Give that back!"

"If you don't answer me, I will break this." He held the delicate chain between his fingers, threatening to snap it. Tony started to call his name, but Mr. Callahan ignored him.

As Mr. Callahan's fingers tightened, Caleb spoke, his voice hoarse. "It belonged to my late mother."

Mr. Callahan's body stiffened. His eyes widened. "How do you know? Who gave it to you?"

"Mrs. Laura did," Caleb said. "My adopted mother."

At the mention of "Mrs. Laura," Richard, Mr. Callahan's assistant, who had been standing silently by, stiffened imperceptibly. A flicker of recognition crossed his face, quickly masked. He made a subtle gesture to one of the nearby staff.

Mr. Callahan looked at Caleb for a long moment, his expression unreadable. He slowly released the necklace. "Alright." His voice was calmer now, almost too calm. "It seems this meeting has taken an unexpected turn. Mr. Reed, perhaps I should take my leave."

Mr. Reed nodded, still processing the shock. "Indeed, Richard."

As Caleb picked up his necklace, Richard casually approached the table where Caleb had stood. He picked up a discarded wine glass, one Caleb had used, and subtly wrapped it in a napkin. His eyes met Mr. Callahan's, a silent, knowing exchange passing between them.

Weeks later, the city dust still clinging to his shoes, Caleb was on a side street, handing out flyers for a new juice bar. His bruised ribs had healed, but the sting of recent memories hadn't. A sleek, black limousine pulled up beside the curb, silent as a shadow. The back door opened. Richard, Mr. Callahan's assistant, stepped out.

"Come with me, Caleb Blake," Richard said, his voice flat. "Your attention is needed at the Callahan Estate."

Caleb balled the flyers in his hand. "Needed? For what? I'm busy." He gestured to the stack in his arms.

"This isn't a request," Richard said, a flicker of impatience in his eyes. "It's an… invitation. From Mr. Callahan himself."

Caleb scowled. He remembered the humiliation, the snap of his chain. "I have nothing to do with the Callahan's. I'm not going anywhere."

Richard sighed, pulling out a slim tablet. "Very well. But understand, Mr. Blake Smith, what is happening concerns you directly. More directly than you can imagine." He pointed to a screen on the tablet, showing a series of complex legal documents, then a faded photograph, unmistakably of a young woman holding a baby. Caleb’s breath hitched. His pendant. His mother.

"What is this?" Caleb demanded, stepping closer.

"It's about your past," Richard said. "A past Mr. Callahan believes he knows something about, and I know how long you've been wanting to know about your past. Now, are you coming?"

Caleb stared at the image, then at Richard's impassive face. His mind raced. He had no job. No real future. And suddenly, a thread to his lost identity. "Fine," he muttered, dropping the flyers. He entered the limousine. The door shut, sealing him into an unfamiliar world.

The limousine glided through the Callahan Estate gates, a silent shadow cutting through the manicured night. Caleb felt the plush leather seats beneath him, the unfamiliar quiet of immense wealth. The door opened. Richard, Mr. Callahan's assistant, stood there.

"When will you give me a clue about my identity?" Caleb asked, stepping out. "Or is this some kind of prank?"

Richard's face gave nothing away. "You'll know when you meet Mr. Callahan."

Caleb clenched his jaw. Mr. Callahan. The last person he wanted to see. Even with Diana's promise to help him find his family, Caleb wanted answers himself. Even a tiny clue felt better than leaning on someone else. As they walked towards the office, Caleb couldn't help but stare. The Callahan Estate was a masterpiece. Every detail, from the polished marble floors to the intricate carvings, spoke of boundless wealth and refined taste.

"If I were Cathy, I would've left me for him too," Caleb muttered under his breath.

"We're here," Richard said, a soft knock preceding the opening of a heavy door.

Mr. Callahan sat behind a grand mahogany desk, a figure of calm expectation. The look on his face now was different from the cold authority at the engagement meeting. Something softer, almost fragile, flickered in his eyes