RISE OF AN ESTRANGED TRILLIONAIRE SON

Chapter 1

The machines kept beeping tirelessly beside the bed. Emily Harris’s father, who once commanded boardrooms, laid fraily on the oversized as life seeped slowly out of him. His aging skin was looking green and yellow. Emily sat at the edge of a chair beside the bed, holding her father’s weak hand tightly. She held them so tight that her knuckles turned white.

“Emily,” her dad called like he was groaning with his last breath. His pain clouded eyes pierced hers, as he squeezed her hand”Promise me.”

“Anything, Dad,” Emily murmured. She could barely speak as all she could do was cry. She leaned closer, blinking back the hot sting behind her eyes. She knew what was coming. The will. The company. Her inheritance.

“Marry him.” The words landed like stones.

Emily froze. She pulled back slightly as confusion etched on her face. This was far from what she was expecting.  “Marry… who? Dad, what are you….”

“That Carter boy.” Robert wheezed, struggling for breath. “Adrian Carter. The delivery guy whoover on Cedar.”

Disbelief fell on Emily. She instantly felt cold and sick. Adrian Carter? The quiet, unassuming guy who delivered packages to the estate? The one who fixed Mrs. Peterson’s fence last summer? He was practically a nobody in their social circle. “Adrian? Dad, no. That’s… impossible. Why? He’s… he’s nobody.”

Robert’s grip tightened painfully. “He is somebody. He’s… reliable. Decent. Not like those vultures circling you.” A cough escaped his aching throat, racking his thin frame. “They’ll tear you apart, Em. The board… Veronica…” He spat his wife’s name like poison. “They’ll bleed Harris Industries dry once I’m gone. They will use you and break you.”

Emily shook her head, a frantic denial. “But Adrian? What does he have to do with—”

“He’s your shield,” Robert interrupted, his voice gaining a desperate edge. “Marry him. Publicly. Legally. Make him part of this family. It throws them off balance. Shows you’re not… alone.” He sucked in another painful breath. “Condition… for your inheritance is you… get full…control if… you marry him… before… before I go.”

The coldness In Emily’s chest spread. A shield? A marriage of convenience to a delivery driver? The humiliation burned. “Dad, please. There must be another way. I can handle the board. I can handle Mom—”

“No!” The word was sharp, final. Robert’s eyes burned into hers. “You can’t. Not yet. Not alone. He’s… clean. Unconnected. They won’t see him coming.” Another cough, weaker this time. “Promise me, Emily. Or Harris Industries… dies with me. Goes to the creditors. To her.” He didn’t need to mention her name before Emily knew he referred to her mother. “Promise!”

The room was silent for a while, except for the sound of the beeping machine. Emily stared at her father’s desperate, dying face. The empire he’d built, the only thing left of him, hung in the balance. And even though everything in her wanted to reject not doing it, another feeling dominated. The feeling that she had to do what was asked of her. 

Exhaling slowly,  “Okay, Dad. I promise,” she said.

She could see a certain reaction on his face for a second. But she couldn’t tell if it was relief or victory. His grip on her hand loosened, and his head sank into the pillow. “Good girl,” he whispered as his eyes started to close. “Good… girl.”

Two years later

The engine of Adrian Carter’s ten-year-old delivery van made rattling sounds as he drove the  streets of Seattle. The van was already old and couldn’t keep up with the bare minimum maintenance it got. The address on his next package looked familiar and gave him a small headache. Harris Estate, 1 Crestview Drive.

He stopped in front of the big iron gates. The security cameras moved as they watched him. He pressed the intercom button, said his name and the company he worked for. There was a short silence, then the gates opened slowly but with a heavy sound. He then drove into the compound lined with hibiscus plants. The huge, fancy house stood ahead. It was meant to be home. But to him, it felt like a prison.

He parked near the service entrance, away from the gleaming luxury cars in the main garage. Grabbing the heavy box, industrial printer toner for Mr. Harris’s old study, now Veronica’s “planning room”, he hunched his shoulders against the rain and jogged to the back door.

He unlocked the door with the only key had access to. The mudroom was big and cold. His feet felt chilled as he stepped on the tiles. He removed his worn, damp work boots and carefully wiped his feet on the thick mat. Even doing that, he felt like he didn’t belong there.

The kitchen was empty, too clean. Shiny steel appliances were properly arranged on the spotless marble counters. He set the box down neatly on the delivery spot by the pantry. He was turning to leave when a voice cut through the quiet.

“Tracked half the city in here, did you?”

Veronica Harris stood in the doorway of the big hall. She had in her hand, a glass of brown liquor. She wore neat cream trousers and a smooth silk blouse. Her blonde hair was perfectly in place. Her cold, sharp eyes scanned him from head to toe, stopping on his wet jeans and work polo. The dislike on her face wasn’t even hidden.

Adrian kept his expression neutral. “Wiped my feet, Veronica. The package is by the pantry.”

“See that you remember next time,” she sniffed, taking a slow sip. “This isn’t some… depot. We maintain standards.” Her gaze flicked past him, dismissive. “Emily’s birthday gala is next week. The caterers need the grand ballroom polished. Floor, not just the surfaces. Properly. Before Friday.”

It wasn’t really a question. It was more like a command. A command he was meant to follow right away without saying a word. Cleaning the huge marble floor in the ballroom took the whole day. It was a work reserved for the “house staff” they didn’t even have anymore. All thanks to Veronica’s so-called “cutting costs.” She loved to complain about how much money they were losing, yet somehow never stopped buying expensive things for herself.

Adrian simply nodded. Arguing was pointless. It would only fuel her fire. “Understood.”

“See that it is.” She turned away, already moving on. “And try not to be underfoot when the actual guests arrive tonight. The Chen delegation is crucial.”

He waited until he couldn’t hear her footsteps any longer. The noise from the fridge increased in the silence. He went through the mudroom, put on his wet boots, and walked into the rain without looking back at the house.