Rags To Riches: The Rise Of Mr. Nobody.

Chapter 4: Staged Accident.

He walked across the sidewalk, one slow step at a time, as if he were counting the tiles. His grip tightened at his side as his mind rattled to the conversation in the office.

Flashback:

“Mr Hart, aren't you curious about how a huge amount of money landed into your account without a call from the bank management?” Mr Rodriguez asked, pausing as Jayden's brow knitted.

It was true. The highest amount his bank account has ever received was a few hundred dollars. Then suddenly…

“They did it,” Mr. Rodriguez said, cutting through his thought.

His knuckles cracked.

“W-what?” Jayden's voice cracked.

Mr. Rodriguez nodded grimly.

“You're an obstacle. They needed to do something. But I had to lure you out myself before you end up at the wrong side of the table.”

“W-why?” Jayden asked, his voice barely audible. “Do I really need to involve myself in this?”

“You're the only one that can fight for your family. This inheritance… your grandfather will explain better.”

“My grandfather? Where's he?” Jayden asked.

Mr. Rodriguez adjusted his glasses. “You'll meet him… when you're physically and mentally stable enough.”

'What the hell is this man talking about?' he wondered.

“W-what do you mean by that?” he inquired.

“You can only meet the chairman you're prepared to meet. But you won't be alone. Both I and the chairman will be right by your side.”

'Am I … prepared?'

“I need to get going. Thank you for the clarification.” Jayden stood up and headed towards the door. Mr Rodriguez followed, a polite smile on his face.

“I'm merely your subordinate sir. Just let me know when you're ready to meet him.”

Subordinate? Come off it, Jayden thought.

A sudden gust of wind blew across the street, forcing a few strands of his hair clenched to his face and jolting him back to reality.

“My life is a mess,” he muttered to himself. “Do I really have to do this?”

****

“Man, you look like absolute shit,” one of his friends, Grayson said, eyes glued to him.

“I'm fine.” Jayden responded. Nathan and Grayson exchanged a worried glance.

“You walked in like you've been haunted by a ghost,” Nathan said gently, sitting at the arm of the couch. “And collapsed on the poor couch like a lifeless body.”

Jayden's lips part, a word forming but none came.

How was he going to tell his friends that his grandfather was the richest man in the city, that he had suddenly become a billionaire and that anonymous people are hunting him.

“Jayden, you can talk to us. We'll understand,” Nathan pressed.

“Thank you. I think I'm just too tired. I'm going to lay down.”

Grayson narrowed his eyes suspiciously then shrugged. Jayden dragged his feet into the small bedroom and fell on the mattress, closing his eyes against the splitting headache forming behind him.

The next morning, the whispers started early.

“Nat, this is totally weird for Jayden.Something is definitely wrong” Grayson muttered near the doorway, staring over the bed.

Nathan sighed and gently tapped Jayden on the shoulder,

“Time to wake up, Jay. You’ve got a shift at the bakery and we have to go now.” They called out their goodbyes and left.

Jayden stared at the ceiling for a long time, rubbing his jaw. He blinked slowly and kept his eyes closed.

“You still have work,” he muttered.

“Don't let this get the best of you.”

Soon, he got ready for work and left.

At the bakery, work was usually his default hiding place. He loved his routine— baking, meeting the customers' needs, and focusing on the dough. But today, his mind kept drifting back to the discussion.

“Jayden, you're spacing out,” one of his colleagues muttered, nudging his elbow slightly. “This is unlike you.”

“I’m—I’m okay. Thank you.” He forced a smile, and continued to knead the dough.

The moment his shift ended, he pulled out his phone from the pocket in his apron. He unlocked it and stared at the call log, tracking a particular number for ten seconds before finally hitting dial

It answered on the second ring.

“Good day, Mr. Hart. I hope you're well?”

“I'm fine,” Jayden replied, taking a deep breath. “I called to let you know that I'm ready… to meet him.”

“Are you sure?” Rodriguez asked, his tone shifted to something more serious.

“I am. Let's get this over with. Send me his address. I'll take a taxi when I clock out.”

“There's no need for that, Mr. Hart. A driver has been dispatched to pick you up. You're visiting your grandfather: you can't go in a common cab.” Rodriguez insisted.

“I'm okay with the taxi. Just send me the address.”

“I apologize, sir. The chairman Albert would be greatly displeased if I allowed such.”

Jayden closed his eyes and sighed.

“I'll send you the address of the bakery.”

“There's no need, sir. We have it. Expect the vehicle when you clock out. Excuse me, I must hang up.”

“Wait,” Jayden groaned, "can you call me Jayden?”

“ I'm afraid that's impossible sir. You're my employer's son — the sole heir to Apexium. For all intents and purposes, you're my boss.”

The line went dead.

Jayden rested his back on the break room wall, staring at the screen.

Can this old man stop already?

***

As scheduled, he sighted a pristine black Rolls Royce with heavily tinted windows at the curb. A driver immediately stepped out of the car, bowing low before opening the rear door.

“There's really no need for this,” Jayden muttered, feeling uncomfortable as passersby stared.

“There is. You're the boss.”

Jayden climbed into the leather seat and closed his eyes.

What have I gotten myself into?

The drive to his supposed grandfather's was completely silent, the cabin so insulated that the city's noise disappeared.

When the car finally slowed, the driver announced, “we've arrived sir.”

Jayden opened his eyes and looked out the window. His mouth fell open.

The wrought-iron gates opened into a sprawling, hyper-modern fortress surrounded by high security walls. Is this really just a house?

He alighted from the car, following a uniformed maid through the echoing marble hallways. When she pointed toward a set of double doors at the end of the hall, Jayden took a deep breath, knocked, and stepped inside.

The room was vast, but his eyes locked instantly on the center of the space. He froze.

Lying on a medical bed was a man in his late sixties. An IV line ran into the back of his frail, bruised right hand, and his leg was elevated in a complex brace. Machines beeped softly in the background.

Jayden took a hesitant step forward. “G-good evening, sir.”

The old man’s head turned slowly. His eyes, though clouded with pain, looked exactly like Jayden’s father’s eyes.

“S-son... is that... is that really you?” the man gasped, his voice trembling violently.

Jayden nodded, his heart dropped at the sight. This wasn’t a powerful tycoon; this was a broken old man. He moved closer to the bedside. “Yes. It’s me. What happened to you? How did this happen?”

The Chairman raised a weak, trembling hand toward him, his fingers twitching.

“They did it,” the old man whispered, a flash of cold fear entering his eyes. “A staged accident.”

Jayden froze.

Wait... what?