Rise To Ascension: The Poor Zillionaire

Chapter 6

Chapter 6

After Jensen left, I dressed quickly in the clothes that had been provided—expensive fabrics that fit perfectly, as if they'd been tailored specifically for me. The system had been quiet since its cryptic warning about Jensen's misleading information regarding Damien, but I could feel its presence hovering at the edge of my consciousness like a patient observer.

I made my way through the mansion's corridors, guided by the soft-spoken directions of a staff member who seemed to materialize whenever I needed assistance. The study was located on the ground floor, behind heavy oak doors that opened to reveal a room that looked like it belonged in a centuries-old library.

Floor-to-ceiling bookshelves lined the walls, filled with leather-bound volumes that appeared both ancient and well-maintained. A massive desk dominated one corner, while comfortable leather chairs were arranged around a fireplace that crackled with warmth despite the mild weather outside.

Standing near one of the tall windows, silhouetted against the morning light, was a man I didn't recognize. He was elderly, perhaps in his seventies, with silver hair and a distinguished bearing that spoke of old money and older secrets.

When he turned to face me, I was struck by the intensity of his pale blue eyes and the way they seemed to study me with a mixture of satisfaction and sorrow.

"Alexander," he said, his voice carrying a slight accent I couldn't quite place. "My boy, you've grown so much."

I remained near the doorway, suddenly uncertain. "I'm sorry, but I don't know who you are."

The man's expression softened with understanding. "Of course you don't. The memory alterations were quite thorough. I'm Gerald Whitmore—I was your father's closest friend and business partner for over thirty years."

As he spoke, information began flooding my mind through the system, appearing as if I were reading an invisible file:

System Database: Gerald Whitmore

Age: 74

Position: Former Vice President of Yggdrasil Enterprises

Relationship: Godfather to Alexander Yggdrasil

Status: Trustworthy - verified ally

Additional Information: Present during the host's childhood until age 5. Instrumental in creating the protection protocols that led to memory alteration. Has spent 20 years searching for the host.

The information felt both foreign and familiar, like déjà vu in reverse. I found myself taking a step closer to Gerald, drawn by something I couldn't name.

"You knew my parents," I said, not quite a question.

"I loved them like family," Gerald replied, gesturing for me to take a seat in one of the leather chairs. "Your father, Marcus, was the most brilliant man I've ever known. Your mother, Isabella, had a heart that could encompass the world. They adored you beyond measure."

He settled into the chair across from me, his movements careful but graceful. "When the threats against the family became too severe, it was Marcus who insisted on the extreme measures we took to protect you. He said he'd rather have a son who was alive and ignorant of his heritage than a dead heir who knew his birthright."

"What kind of threats?" I asked, surprised by how natural it felt to be having this conversation.

Gerald's expression darkened. "The Yggdrasil Group controlled resources that certain individuals and organizations coveted. Oil, precious metals, technology patents, vast real estate holdings across six continents. When conventional business tactics failed to gain them access to our assets, they resorted to more... direct methods."

"Like what happened to my parents?"

The old man closed his eyes briefly, pain flickering across his features. "Yes. Though their deaths were made to look like an accident, we knew better. A private jet doesn't simply fall from the sky without cause, especially not one maintained by the most meticulous team of engineers money could buy."

I felt a chill run through me. "And you think the same people are after me now?"

"I'm certain of it," Gerald said grimly. "The Snow family has been searching for the Yggdrasil heir for over a decade. When they identified you as a possible candidate, they orchestrated your meeting with Lily, your courtship, your marriage—all of it was designed to confirm your identity and gain access to your potential inheritance."

The pieces were falling into place with sickening clarity. "So the accident wasn't their first attempt?"

"Likely not. But it was their most direct. They grew impatient, especially with the merger they're planning. They need your shares in Snow Innovations to complete the deal, and a dead husband is much easier to manage than a living one who might ask inconvenient questions."

I thought about the driver's phone call, Lily's thoughts in the hospital, her family's barely concealed disdain. "And Damien Carter? Jensen seems to think he's involved with them."

Gerald's face hardened at the mention of Damien's name. "That man is dangerous, Alexander. He's been circling your wife like a vulture, and we have reason to believe he's working with the Snow family to eliminate you."

The system immediately responded:

System Alert: Gerald Whitmore's assessment of Damien Carter is based on incomplete information. Damien Carter poses no threat to the host.

I frowned, the contradiction between what Gerald was telling me and what the system was indicating creating a tension I couldn't resolve.

"What kind of evidence do you have?" I asked carefully.

Gerald reached into his jacket and pulled out a tablet, much like the one Jensen had shown me earlier. "This was taken yesterday afternoon, not long after you disappeared from the hospital."

He handed me the device, and I watched as security footage began playing on the screen. The timestamp showed it was recorded at Snow Innovations' corporate headquarters. In the video, I could see Lily in her office, seated behind her desk with her head in her hands. She appeared to be crying, her shoulders shaking with what looked like genuine sobs.

Then Damien entered the frame. He moved around the desk and, without hesitation, pulled Lily into his arms. She melted against him, burying her face in his chest as he stroked her hair with what appeared to be intimate familiarity.

"As you can see," Gerald said quietly, "Mr. Carter seems quite comfortable consoling your grieving wife."