I am the Heir

Handsome

At exactly 10:00 AM, my phone buzzed. Mr. Sterling confirmed he was waiting out front.

"I'm coming out now," I replied shortly.

I stood up and took one last look around my tiny, hundred-square-foot room. I only took one medium-sized cardboard box with me. Inside were a few special belongings left behind by my parents. I handed the key to my landlady, who was sweeping the porch.

"Oh, moving out already, Dominic?" she asked.

"Yeah. Just looking for a change of scenery," I answered without a smile.

I walked to the end of the alley. A high-end black Mercedes-Benz sedan was pulled up right at the entrance. Sterling stepped out from the back seat and held the door open for me.

"Please, step inside, Dominic. All the paperwork for the penthouse is finalized. The deed and the access keys are in the briefcase on the back seat," Sterling said. "Should I have someone scrap that old bike of yours?"

"No." Despite everything, that bike was my brother-in-arms through the struggle. "Have someone look after it. I’ll ride it again someday."

"Understood."

I slid into the car. The cabin smelled like a mix of genuine leather and expensive, calming cologne—a stark contrast to the scent of grease that usually clung to my clothes. The car glided smoothly through the city traffic. Sterling handed me a tablet showing the schedule for my first board meeting at Pacific Maritime Logistics at 1:00 PM.

"We’re heading to the penthouse first. You need to change. I’ve arranged for a private tailor to meet us there to fit the suits your father commissioned for you a long time ago," Sterling explained.

---

The car entered the most elite gated community in the heart of the Financial District. We pulled up to a private lobby reserved for VIP residents. Security guards in full uniform bowed respectfully as we stepped out. I held onto my cardboard box, refusing the bellhop’s offer to carry it.

The elevator shot up to the 55th floor. As the doors slid open, I found myself standing in the living room of a two-story penthouse with soaring glass walls. The entire city looked small from up here.

A middle-aged man with a measuring tape draped around his neck immediately approached. It was the tailor Sterling had mentioned. Without much small talk, he began measuring my shoulders and arms.

The tailor, a man named Salim, signaled to his assistants to open three long trunks. Inside were five suits in various cuts—classic double-breasted, modern single-button, and a midnight-black tuxedo with silk lapels.

"Albert had these prepared years ago. He said your bone structure was exactly like his when he was young—sturdy with broad shoulders," Salim said.

I tried on the first suit, a navy blue number made of Italian wool. The moment the fabric touched my skin, I felt the undeniable difference between the off-the-rack clothes I usually wore and professional craftsmanship. The suit hugged my frame perfectly.

Salim circled me, tugging slightly at the waist to ensure precision. "Your physique is excellent. Lean but muscular. I suppose that hard work at the auto shop shaped your shoulders and arms perfectly. It's rare to find a client with posture this upright without needing heavy alterations."

His assistant nodded in admiration. "Seriously, sir. Most people need shoulder pads to get this look, but on you, it sits naturally. You look incredibly commanding."

I stared at my reflection in the floor-to-ceiling mirror. I barely recognized the man looking back. A little polish had turned me into a different person entirely.

I tried the second suit—a charcoal gray with a subtle pinstripe. It felt cold and professional. I liked the instant visual intimidation it provided.

"I’ll take them all," I said curtly.

Sterling glanced at his white-gold watch. "Good. I’ll handle the payment. I need to head back to headquarters to ensure all department heads are gathered in the main boardroom. Enjoy the view for a bit. I’ll be back in an hour with the corporate motorcade. Use this time to get your head in the game."

...

An hour passed in a flash. A text arrived from Sterling: “We’re in the lobby. The car is ready.”

I wore the navy blue suit, fastening my father’s watch—which Sterling’s team had serviced back to perfect working order. I stepped out of the penthouse, took the private elevator down, and was met by two security details in black suits. A long black limo flying the small flag of Pacific Maritime Logistics on the hood was waiting for me.

As the car pulled up to the main entrance of the headquarters, Sterling was already there with the corporate secretary. The door was opened for me, and I stepped out. I looked up at the skyscraper for a moment, took a deep breath, and walked in.

The massive lobby went dead silent the moment I entered. On both sides of the main hallway leading to the executive elevators, dozens of employees from various divisions were lined up in perfect formation.

"Good afternoon, Mr. Haughland!" they shouted in unison, their voices echoing through the lobby.

Everyone—from the security guards to the receptionists and middle management—bowed their heads deeply as I passed. No one dared to look me in the eye. They cleared a path like they were welcoming a king back from exile.

"Af-afternoon," I stammered, awkwardly scratching the back of my head.

"This way, sir," Sterling said, walking a step behind me, quietly briefing me on the people I’d meet in the boardroom.

I reached the executive elevator. Before stepping in, I looked back at the crowd of employees still standing stiffly in respect. I was stunned. This kind of recognition and respect was something I could never have imagined during my years living in the shadows of poverty and insults.

"Everyone is ready in the boardroom, sir," the corporate secretary said in a polished, polite tone.

A meeting? I thought. What the hell am I supposed to do in a meeting?