HEIR TO POWER

Chapter 4 – A Man Worth Killing

It was 4:32 AM when Robert woke up, Not from a nightmare. Not from a call, Just instinct.

He sat up in bed, drenched in sweat, heart hammering against his ribs. The penthouse was silent, the lights dimmed to a soft blue. Outside, the skyline was just beginning to pale with the earliest trace of dawn.

He walked barefoot into the living room, grabbed a glass of water from the bar, and stood by the window, Something felt wrong, He didn’t know what, Not yet.

By 8 AM, Thomas entered with his usual briefcase and the day’s agenda, impeccably dressed, not a hair out of place.

“Today’s schedule: 10 AM-introductory board meeting with Elba Holdings. 1 PM-lunch with Lady Meyer regarding her political foundation. 3 PM-call with Westridge Mining to discuss buyout options. And… there’s a package that arrived early this morning. No return label.”

Robert frowned. “What kind of package?”

Thomas set a small black box on the counter. “Security screened it. No explosives, no toxins. But…”

He opened the lid, Inside, laid carefully atop black velvet, was a single silver bullet, No note. No markings. Just a message that didn’t need words. Robert stared at it. “Subtle,” he said, his voice cold.

Thomas shut the lid with a sharp click. “You’ve made noise. Someone wants to quiet you.”

At 10 AM, Robert walked into the Elba Holdings boardroom, Twelve people sat around the massive obsidian table. Men and women. All powerful. All silent as he entered.

He didn’t shake hands. Didn’t smile, He took the head seat, sat down, and opened the meeting with four words: “I’m not my father.”

They exchanged glances, Some wary. Some curious. One or two amused. “Let’s talk about results,” Robert continued. “Our logistics arm lost $42 million last quarter. I want a full audit in forty-eight hours.”

A gruff older man cleared his throat. “With respect, Mr. Elba, that division was your father’s pet”

Robert cut him off. “Which makes it sentimental. Sentiment loses money.”

Silence... Then a nod from Elena, seated beside him, Good. He had made his first cut.

By the end of the meeting, three departments had been flagged for internal review, two directors had been publicly embarrassed, and one board member walked out in quiet fury. Robert felt no guilt.

He was building an empire, There was no room for dead weight, By noon, the city’s financial circles were buzzing.

Robert Elba Takes Seat at Holdings Board – ‘Not His Father,’ Sources Say

Internal Shakeups at Elba Consortium Spark Speculation of Full Overhaul

Who Is the New King of Kingsbridge?

Robert leaned back in the backseat of the Maybach, reading headlines as the car glided toward Kingsbridge Square. His coffee was hot. His mind was sharper. Then his phone buzzed.

Unknown Number.

He answered. “I have a gift for you,” said a raspy male voice. No accent. No emotion. “Basement garage. Space C7.”

The line went dead, Robert stared at the phone for a moment, then tapped his earpiece. “Thomas. Send two security to C7. And meet me there.”

The garage was cold, echoing, and silent, Thomas arrived first with two men-ex-military, well-armed. They swept the area in seconds, Then Robert stepped out of the elevator.

In space C7 sat a rusted metal cage, Inside it, bound to a chair and gagged, was a man, Late thirties. Blood on his shirt. Eyes swollen. Knees shaking. Robert stepped closer, Thomas read a sealed note taped to the top.

“He followed you for four days. His employer wanted to know your routine, We intercepted him. You're being hunted. This is your warning shot. – C”

Robert stared at the man, The man stared back, terrified. “Who do you work for?” Robert asked, voice low.

No answer, Thomas glanced at him. “Shall I have him extracted for questioning?”

Robert didn’t answer immediately, He turned, walked a slow circle around the cage, heart pounding with something unfamiliar, Not fea, Power. “I want him alive,” Robert said at last. “But I want the person who sent him found. Today.”

Thomas nodded. “Understood.”

As they left, the man screamed behind them, muffled by the gag, Robert didn’t look back. At 6 PM, Elena arrived unannounced at the penthouse.

“Heard about the gift,” she said, tossing her coat on the couch. “Welcome to the game.”

“You know who sent him?”

“No. But I know who didn’t.”

Robert poured them each a drink.

Elena continued, “That message ‘C’ might not be a name. Could be an initial, or a symbol. Either way, they’re organized. And they’re not amateurs.”

“I figured.”

“Good,” she said. “Because this? This is only the beginning.”

Robert eyed her over the rim of his glass. “How many people want me dead?”

Elena shrugged. “Everyone who’s afraid you might live up to your name.”

Later that night, Robert stood by the window again, Same skyline, Different man, A storm was coming. He could feel it in his bones. The message had been clear: someone out there wanted him gone.

But they made one mistake. They let him live long enough to see the threat. Now, Robert Elba was no longer playing defense, He was going hunting.

In a shadowed room lit only by monitors, a woman sat behind a desk, On one screen: footage of Robert in the boardroom, On another: his penthouse window. She pressed a button on the desk. A green light blinked once.

Then her voice echoed across the room. “Phase One is over. Prepare to initiate Phase Two. Let’s see how much the heir can bleed.”