Return Of The Argent Heir

AVAILABLE BALANCE: $12,057.00

​Darius stared at the balance in his savings account, a sudden warmth flushing his eyes. For over a year, every grueling hour spent as a campus dispatch rider had built toward this single number.

While other students slept, Darius had been shuttling high-value packages, confidential documents, and luxury deliveries between the exclusive presidential dorms and the secure receiving center.

As a scholarship student constantly scraping by, the job was his lifeline, covering the vast chasms his meager stipend couldn't touch.

​But this morning, the exhaustion in his bones evaporated. It was his girlfriend's birthday. He and Kimberley had been together for 2 years and he just wanted this particular birthday to be special.

​For months, he had secretly kept track of the things she pointed at in magazines and he had spent every single cent of his savings earlier that morning to get em.

On his bed in the cramped dorm room sat a beautifully wrapped gift box containing a classic designer watch, an elegant evening dress, and a confirmed reservation receipt for La Belle Époque—the most exclusive restaurant in the city.

​"Look at you, grinning like a fool," his roommate, Charlie, scoffed jokingly from across the room, tossing a crumpled paper ball at him. "You actually wiped out your whole account for her? Man, you've got it bad."

​"She’s worth it, Charlie," Darius replied protectively.

​Darius was, by all objective measures, strikingly good-looking. Tall, broad-shouldered, with naturally sharp features, dark eyes, and a calm confidence that made people turn their heads, he possessed the kind of face that belonged on magazine covers rather than behind a delivery bike.

But on a campus ruled by trust funds and legacy wealth, a handsome face without a black card was practically invisible to most girls.

Except for Kimberley. She had chosen him despite their completely different worlds, and Darius swore he would never take that for granted.

This gesture was the absolute least he could do to prove he belonged by her side.

​Smoothing down his jacket, Darius lifted the heavy, velvet-ribboned gift box and headed off-campus to Kimberley’s apartment.

​When he arrived, he didn't bother knocking. He had a key, and he wanted the surprise to be just as he'd imagined.

He pushed the door open with a bright smile, and as he took a step forward, he froze.

His smile disappeared.

​The air in the apartment was heavy, thick with the scent of expensive cologne and unfamiliar musk.

On the center sofa, Kimberley was sitting lap-opened directly on top of a guy. From the blond hair and the arm tattoo, Darius could recognise it was Mars—one of the wealthiest, most notoriously arrogant heirs on campus.

Their lips were locked, a soft moan escaping Kimberley’s throat as Mars’s hands gripped her waist closer. She was wearing nothing but transparent, black lingerie.

​The click of the door closing broke the spell.

Kimberley’s eyes snapped open, her pupils dilating in shock as she caught sight of Darius standing on the threshold.

​She immediately scrambled off Mars, nearly tripping over her own feet as she grabbed the robe. "D-Darius? What the hell are you doing here? How long have you been standing there?!"

​Darius’s eyes darted from the disheveled couch to the flush on her neck. His heart didn't just pound; it felt like it was breaking through his ribs.

For an agonizing sequence of seconds, his throat locked up. The world tilted violently on its axis. He looked down quietly at the trembling gift box in his hands, his voice sounding hollow.

​"I... I just came to surprise you," he whispered. "To wish you a happy birthday."

​Kimberley let out a harsh breath, slapping her forehead and burying her face in her hands. She shook her head in deep disappointment. "Are you serious right now?"

​"I spent my entire savings Kim," Darius said, the words cutting his throat like glass.

He looked up, his gaze locking onto hers. "Everything I made this year to get you these gifts. And this is how you repay me?"

​Kimberley’s shock quickly morphed into irritation. She let out a sharp, mocking chuckle. "Oh, please! Why are you trying to play the victim here, Darius? I never forced you to do anything. If you had just called me before leaving campus like a normal person, this wouldn't have happened!"

​Darius’s brows furrowed, anger finally sparking through the numbness. "How is it a surprise if I call you? I spent the entire morning shopping for the most beautiful watch and dress I could find. I even booked a reservation for us at La Belle Époque, because I knew you’ve always wanted to go there!"

​Kimberley shrugged her shoulders carelessly. "And I never asked you to surprise me, didn't I tell you? Besides, Mars and I had dinner at La Belle Époque just last night."

​Darius shook his head, utterly appalled. "Are you... are you seriously trying to justify cheating on me right now? How can you be so heartless, Kim?"

​Stepping forward, Kimberley’s posture straightened, her confidence returning as she leaned into the cruelty. "I’m not being heartless, Darius. I’m just tired. I am sick and tired of being your 'understanding' girlfriend. I want to start living the life I actually deserve, not waiting around for a dispatch rider to throw me crumbs!"

​She snatched the box from Darius’s trembling hands, placing it roughly on the coffee table.

She tore open the lid and pulled out the watch box. Her eyes caught the price tag left inside.

​"$4,000?" She scoffed, holding it up like a piece of garbage. She looked at Darius with a sneer. "Do you even know that the cheapest watch in my collection is over ten grand? Who are you trying to impress with this trash?"

​"I am trying to give you my best," Darius said subtly.

​Kimberley didn't care. She pulled out the red evening dress and burst into a loud, mocking laugh.

From the couch, Mars couldn't hold his back either, letting out a booming chuckle.

​"What the hell is this, Cross?" Kimberley laughed, throwing the dress carelessly onto the hardwood floor. "This is literally the ugliest dress I have ever seen in my life."

​Mars finally stood up, adjusting his silk shirt as he looked down at Darius with pity. "Hey babe, why don't you show him what a real birthday gift looks like?"

​"Oh, right!" Excitedly, Kimberley ran to her closet and dragged out a massive, white boutique box.

She eagerly opened it, pulling out its contents one by one to flaunt them in Darius’s face. "Look. A limited-edition Chanel bag, a diamond-encrusted Rolex, imported French perfumes, and two custom runway dresses."

​Darius stared at the pile. As a dispatch rider who handled luxury goods daily, he knew the market value instantly. It was easily over $200,000 worth of luxury.

​Kimberley smirked, stepping close enough for him to smell her perfume. "This, Darius, is how a man proves he is worthy of me."

​ She turned right back to Mars, wrapping her arms around his neck and giving him a deep, insatiable kiss.

Darius stood paralyzed, his blood boiling. In all the years they had dated, Kimberley had never kissed him with that kind of hunger.

​"If I had known," Darius spoke up, his voice dropping an octave, "that you were this worthless of a woman, I wouldn't have wasted a single cent."

​The kiss snapped apart. Mars’s face contorted in rage. He jumped forward. "What the fuck did you just call her?"

​Before Darius could react, Mars’s fist swung out, catching Darius squarely on the nose. The force rattled his teeth, and the hot metallic taste of blood immediately filled his mouth.

​"Get the fuck out of here, peasant," Mars snarled.

​ The bottled-up fury of a year's wasted life exploded inside of Darius almost instantly.

​ Darius lunged. He tackled Mars straight over the coffee table, shattering the glass. Mars tried to throw another punch, but Darius caught his wrist, pinning it down, and delivered a left hook across Mars’s face, followed by a brutal right.

​"Darius stop! You’re going to kill him!" Kimberley screamed at the top of her lungs, trying to pull Darius away.

​Darius didn't stop until Mars was completely limp, gasping powerlessly on the ruined carpet, his face bruised and bloody.

Standing up, Darius wiped a trickle of blood from his own nose with the back of his hand. He gave a terrified, trembling Kimberley one last, cold look and walked out.

​For an hour, Darius walked aimlessly into the quiet streets bordering the campus that gave way to tree-lined avenues. He didn't know where he was going; he just needed the cold wind to wash everything out of his head.

He barely noticed the passing cars or the fading sunlight. A low, powerful engine purred behind him. Darius didn’t react until the black sedan glided to a stop right beside him, its tinted windows reflecting the empty street. He stepped back warily as the rear door opened.

Three men stepped out of the vehicle. Two were obviously bodyguards. The third man, walking between them, was older, he looked like he was in his 50s.

“Young Master,” the old man called, he bowed slightly.

Darius blinked, confusion cutting through his numbness. “What?” He shook his head vigorously. “You’ve got the wrong person."

​The older man stood straight, his gaze sweeping over Darius's bruised face. "I have the correct person, sir. Allow me to introduce myself. I am Holt Heisenberg, the chief butler for the Argent Empire."

​Darius chuckled humorlessly, rubbing the back of his crawling neck. "The Argent, you say? Look, My name is Darius. Darius Cross. I'm not who you're looking for."

​Holt nodded gently, his expression remaining entirely respectful. "I know who you are sir. But I would like to explain further, if you could come with us."

​Darius looked around anxiously. The street was completely empty. A cold dread pooled in his stomach. Could this be a setup by Mars?

His first instinct was to turn run, but as he eyed the two bodyguards flanking Holt, he knew they would catch up with him in a matter of seconds.

​Darius let out a slow, defeated breath.

​"Let's go," he muttered reluctantly, stepping toward the open door.

The drive stretched long and tense. Holt addressed him repeatedly as “sir” and “Young Master,” each instance making Darius shift uncomfortably. He just concluded they'd mistaken him for someone else.

When the car finally rolled through massive gates, Darius’s breath was completely stolen away. The estate was the grandest, most beautiful place he had ever seen.

As they stepped out, Darius immediately noticed a massive gathering of estate workers. The moment their eyes landed on Darius’s face, a collective shock rippled through them. Tools slipped from hands, and several maidservants clutched their chests, staring at him in absolute horror as if they had just seen a ghost.

Holt placed a steadying hand on his shoulder, guiding him toward the entrance. “I know you must be wondering what is happening, Young Master,” he said softly, his voice carrying quiet gravity. “I guess you are about to find out. Welcome home.”