Rise of the big bad son-in-law

Chapter four.

For the first time in years…

Jamal slept without fear; there was no cold voice ordering him awake, or anyone pouring drink on him for waking up late.

He stirred slightly.

For a moment, he didn’t move, he simply laid there; frozen and really confused by his sudden reality.

After what felt like forever, his eyes eventually flew open, and he sat up abruptly, swinging his legs over the side of the bed slowly.

He stood and walked toward the balcony doors, pushing them open.

Below was a view of the mansion, some staff were already moving around as early.

This wasn’t a dream.

His throat tightened.

He had spent years waking up to insult and humiliation.

Now…

He woke up to power.

A knock suddenly came at the door snapping through his chain of thoughts. 

Jamal straightened instinctively.

“Come in,” he said.

The door opened and Evelyn entered. 

“Good morning, Mr. Lincoln.”

Hearing the title hit him differently, it was a reminder that this is really happening.

“Don’t call me that,” he mumbled.

She flashed him a warm smile. “You’ll have to get used to it.”

She stepped further into the room.

“You slept well?”

Jamal exhaled, almost laughing in disbelief. “I haven’t slept like that since… I don’t even remember when.”

She nodded as if she expected that answer.

There was a brief silence.

He turned fully toward her.

“This… all of this,” he gestured around the room. “is this some elaborate misunderstanding? Mistaken identity, perhaps?"

Evelyn's expression softened slightly. “No.”

He stared at her blankly for few seconds.  “Are you sure?” he pressed. “Because yesterday I was in a cell, before that, I was being beaten at a party.” His jaw tightened. “This kind of shift doesn’t just happen.”

She walked closer.

“It does when you have a powerful bloodline, I'm sorry we didn't get to you sooner." 

Jamal’s eyes darkened slightly.

“My grandfather… he knew about me all this time?”

“Yes.”

“And he waited until he was dead to show up in my life?”

Evelyn didn’t deflect. "It was protection as I told you earlier, Andrew was ruthless after your father’s death. Keeping you hidden was the only way to guarantee you survived.”

Jamal ran a hand through his hair.

“I survived,” he muttered. “Barely.”

Silence stretched between them, then Evelyn lifted the black laptop she had been holding under her arm.

“There’s something you need to see.”

She placed it on the glass coffee table near the seating area and gestured for him to sit.

Jamal hesitated only briefly before lowering himself onto the couch.

Evelyn opened the laptop and turned it toward him.

The screen lit up immediately, and banking interface appeared.

She typed in some credentials, and the dashboard loaded.

Jamal leaned forward casually at first.

Then he froze, his breath stalled.

The number stared back at him.

Account Holder: Jamal Collins Lincoln.

Available Balance:

$802,382,900.00

He blinked, again and again, his mind refused to process it.

“That’s…” His voice trailed off.

"That's all yours." Evelyn said calmly.

Jamal looked up at her slowly.

“That’s not real.”

“It is.”

He laughed softly... not out of amusement, but disbelief.

“That’s a mistake.”

“It isn’t.”

His fingers hovered over the keyboard but didn’t touch it, as if he feared it would disappear.

“What is this?” he asked hoarsely.

“This,” Evelyn replied, folding her hands in front of her, “is the personal trust your grandfather built for you from the day you were reported missing from public records.”

Jamal’s eyes flickered.

“He’s been saving for me?”

“Yes.”

“Separately?”

“Yes.”

She stepped closer.

“This account has nothing to do with Lincoln Industries. It is independent. Fully liquid, and fully accessible. It's entirely yours.”

Jamal swallowed.

“And the company?”

“You will gain access to operational control and income once your grandfather is buried and the legal transfer is finalized. The board meeting is tomorrow. The official announcement follows.”

His heart pounded louder.

“So this…” he gestured at the screen again, "is just mine?”

“Yes.”

“No conditions?”

“None.”

He leaned back slowly.

Eight hundred million.

Two months ago, he couldn’t afford taxi fare.

Two months ago, he was begging for leftovers.

Two months ago, he was being called a street dog.

His chest rose and fell deeply.

“I’m not… wretched anymore,” he murmured.

Evelyn watched him carefully.

“No, Mr. Lincoln,” she said softly. “You are not, you never have been.” 

"Oh God." He exhaled deeply, suddenly standing and walked back toward the balcony, staring at the gardens again.

Memories flooded him nonstop; those horrible things he had to endure.

Mrs. Smith’s wine thrown in his face, her children beating the shit out of him.

Eva... his ex-wife, calling him worthless.

A cold smile suddenly formed on Jamal’s face and Evelyn seemed to notice.

“What are you thinking?” she asked quietly.

Jamal didn’t turn around immediately.

He let the silence stretch.

Then he cleared his throat, finally facing her.

“I'm thinking about where to begin.”

“Begin what?”

His eyes darkened. “My gratitude tour.”

Eva stared at him. “That doesn’t sound like gratitude.” she chuckled.

“It isn’t.”

There was no rage in his voice, that was the most unsettling part.

He was ridiculously calm.

“They destroyed me when I was weak,” he continued. “Now I want to see how they behave when I’m stronger.”