Rise of The Martian Heir

Chapter 4: The Mansion

The elevator in the police station didn’t go down. It went up.

Raven leaned against Madam Rhea, his legs still shaky. Sebastian stood in front of them, hands folded, watching the numbers climb. 30… 40… 50…

“Where are we going?” Raven asked, his voice hoarse from crying and shouting.

“To the roof,” Madam Rhea said softly. She still had her arm around his waist, holding him up like he weighed nothing. “Sebastian cleared a path.”

Raven looked at the hallway they’d left. SWAT officers were still on the floor, unconscious. Not dead — he could see their chests moving — but out cold. He didn’t ask how. He was too tired.

The elevator dinged. Floor 78. Roof Access.

The doors opened to cold night air and wind. Wakedah City spread out below them, a sea of lights. Venus Light made the sky a permanent twilight purple.

In the middle of the roof pad sat a car. Not a car. It was long, black, sleek, with no wheels. It hovered a foot off the ground, humming quietly. A limousine. The Garden tree emblem glowed faintly on the door.

Sebastian walked ahead and opened the back door. “Madam. Young master.”

Madam Rhea helped Raven inside. The inside was bigger than his whole apartment. Soft leather seats, warm light, a small fridge. It smelled like new leather and flowers.

Sebastian got in the front. The door closed by itself with a soft *thunk*.

Raven sank into the seat. His arms throbbed where Vex had stabbed him. His face hurt. He was wearing a stupid grey paper jumpsuit, covered in his own blood.

Madam Rhea pulled a soft white blanket from somewhere and draped it over him.

“You’re safe now,” she said.

Raven looked out the window as the limo lifted straight up, no runway, no noise. Just up. The police station fell away below.

“All the mansions you saw before,” Madam Rhea said, following his gaze, “they belong to me. To us, now.”

Raven didn’t answer. He was watching the city get smaller. He could see the big bridge that split Wakedah in two. On one side, the sprawl — towers like Harp, packed tight, lights flickering. On the other side, the Heights — dark spaces between bright mansions, trees, pools.

The limo flew over the bridge. It took less than a minute.

A huge gate opened below them, set into a high wall. The limo descended slowly through trees that were perfectly trimmed, past fountains that glowed blue.

They landed softly in front of a house. Not a house. A mansion. It was three stories tall, white stone, with more windows than Raven could count. Light poured out of every one.

“This is home now,” Madam Rhea said.

The limo door opened. Sebastian was already there, holding the door.

Raven tried to stand. His legs wobbled. Madam Rhea slipped her arm under his again.

As they walked toward the front doors, the doors opened by themselves. A line of women stood on either side of the path. They were all young, pretty, wearing black and white maid uniforms. They all bowed their heads at exactly the same time.

“Welcome back, Madam Rhea!” they said together.

Madam Rhea didn’t stop walking. She held Raven tighter.

“Everyone,” she said, her voice clear and strong, not soft like before. “Starting today, Young Master Raven will live here. He is my future son-in-law. The wedding will be on November 11, 2028. Saturday.”

Raven’s head snapped toward her. Tomorrow? He was getting married tomorrow?

The maids all bowed again. “Yes, Madam Rhea.”

One maid stepped forward. She was a little older than the others, blond hair in a tight ponytail, green eyes. She had a small silver pin on her uniform that said ‘Chief Maid’.

“Hazel,” Madam Rhea said to her. “Show him to his room. Give him anything he needs. Food, clothes, medicine.”

“Yes, Madam,” Hazel said. She looked at Raven and smiled. It was a kind, professional smile.

Madam Rhea turned to Raven. She brushed a bit of blood-crusted hair off his forehead. Her fingers were gentle.

“I have work to do. Rest well. I will see you later,” she said.

Then she let go of his arm and walked away down a different hallway, her white and blue dress swishing. Sebastian followed her.

Raven stood there, swaying slightly, in a bloody paper jumpsuit, in the middle of the richest house he’d ever seen.

“Young master? This way, please,” Hazel said softly.

He followed her. He didn’t have a choice.

They went up a grand staircase. The steps were marble. The railing was gold. Paintings bigger than his bed hung on the walls.

They walked down a long hallway on the third floor. Hazel stopped at a set of double doors that were taller than Raven. They had the Garden tree carved in gold.

She pushed them open.

Raven stopped in the doorway. His mouth fell open.

The room was huge. Bigger than the whole floor of Harp where he lived. A king-size bed sat in the middle, with white sheets. A sofa and chairs sat by a fireplace. On the far wall, floor-to-ceiling windows looked out over the entire city. He could see Wakedah sprawl glittering in the distance.

“Your bathroom is there, young master,” Hazel said, pointing. “Your closet is there. Please rest. I will bring food and medicine.”

She bowed and left, closing the big doors softly behind her.

Raven stood alone in the middle of the room. He walked slowly to the window. He could see the bridge. He could see Harp Apartment, a tiny white needle in the distance.

He sat down heavily on the sofa. The blanket Madam Rhea gave him was still around his shoulders.

He thought about the last three days.

Stabbed in an alley. Healed by a strange woman. Given a Ferrari. Punched for a parcel. Arrested by SWAT. Tortured. Accused of murder. Saved by the same woman. Told he was heir to Mars. Told he was getting married tomorrow.

It was too much. His head hurt.

*KNOCK KNOCK.*

The doors opened. Madam Rhea came in alone, pushing a small silver trolley. On it were white bandages, a spray bottle, some pills, and a glass of water.

She was still in her corporate dress.

“I forgot to treat your wounds properly,” she said, walking over to him.

She knelt in front of him on the expensive rug, not caring about her dress. She gently pulled the blanket off his shoulders. He was still in the bloody paper jumpsuit.

She didn’t say anything about it. She just carefully peeled back the bloody bandages on his shoulder.

Raven hissed in pain.

“Sorry,” she whispered. She picked up the spray bottle. It hissed as she sprayed clear liquid on the stab wounds. It was cold, then warm.

“This is military-grade healing spray,” she said, dabbing the wounds gently with a warm, wet cloth. “It will close these in a few hours. No scars.”

She worked quietly, focused. Her violet eyes were close to his. He could smell her perfume. Flowers and something clean, like rain.

She wrapped fresh white bandages around his shoulder and his other arm, her fingers quick and sure.

“There,” she said. “Now this.” She picked up a small blue pill from the trolley.

She held it to his lips. “Open.”

Raven opened his mouth without thinking. She placed the pill on his tongue, then held the glass of water to his lips. He drank.

“What was that?” he asked.

“For your wedding night. For strength,” she said, smiling a little. “Just trust me.”

Raven nodded. He did trust her. It was stupid, but he did. She was the only person in his life who hadn’t hit him or yelled at him in the last three days.

She sat down on the sofa next to him, very close. She just looked at him for a long time.

“Raven,” she said finally. “I want to make you the heir to Garden Corporation. Not just my son-in-law. The owner. Is that okay?”

Before he could answer, another knock.

“Meals for the young master. May I enter?” Hazel’s voice from outside.

“Proceed,” Madam Rhea called.

Hazel came in pushing another trolley, this one covered with silver lids. She set it down and lifted the lids.

Raven’s eyes widened. Steak, big and juicy. Roast chicken, whole. Bowls of noodles. Fresh fruit he’d never seen before. And a big glass mug of dark soda with ice.

Root beer. His favorite, but he could never afford the real kind.

He grabbed the mug and drank half of it in one go.

“So tasty!” he gasped.

Madam Rhea laughed. It was a real laugh, light and happy. “Drink slowly. We have more.”

Hazel just watched him, smiling.

“Have you eaten?” Raven asked them, his mouth half full of steak. He felt rude, but he was starving.

They both laughed again.

“We have,” Madam Rhea said. “This is all for you.”

They watched him eat like he hadn’t eaten in years. Which, in a way, he hadn’t. Not food like this.

When he was finally full, his eyelids felt heavy. The pill, the food, the warm room.

Madam Rhea stood up. “Rest now, Raven. We will talk more later.”

She and Hazel left, closing the doors quietly.

Raven stood up, peeled off the bloody paper jumpsuit, and left it on the floor. He was naked, but he didn’t care. He was alone.

He walked to the huge bed and fell face-first onto it. It was softer than anything he’d ever felt. Like sleeping on a cloud.

He was asleep in seconds.

He didn’t see the small, golden exclamation mark still floating softly above his own head in the dark room, pulsing in time with his breathing.