THE FORGOTTEN HEIR

CHAPTER TWO — THE HEIR’S AWAKENING

The car purred through the winding hills of East Providence, where old money built castles instead of homes. Derek sat stiffly in the back seat, watching mansions blur past as Alaric Voss drove in silence. The world outside looked like something torn from a luxury magazine. He didn’t belong in it. Not yet.

“Are you sure this isn’t a mistake?” he asked, breaking the quiet.

“No, Mr. Dawson,” Alaric said with a glance through the rearview mirror. “You are exactly where you’re supposed to be. And you have no idea what’s coming.”

The estate gates loomed ahead—taller than most buildings Derek had lived in—and opened without a sound. As they rolled into the private driveway, Derek felt the weight of the past and the pull of a future he hadn’t asked for.

The Dawson mansion stood like a monument to power. All glass, steel, and legacy.

As the car stopped, two butlers emerged and opened the door for him like he was royalty. A third stood by with an umbrella, shielding him from the drizzle.

Inside, everything gleamed—crystal chandeliers, white marble floors, paintings that probably cost more than his former apartment building.

Alaric led him to a vast office at the end of the corridor. The walls were lined with leather-bound books and framed newspaper clippings—DAWSON CORP ACQUIRES THREE NEW BANKS, EDWIN DAWSON UNTOUCHABLE IN GLOBAL MARKETS.

At the center of the room sat a long table. And on it, a laptop and a thick file marked: PRIVATE — FOR DEREK DAWSON ONLY.

Alaric gestured for him to sit.

“This… is overwhelming,” Derek murmured.

“You were never meant to live in shadows,” Alaric replied. “Your grandfather had his reasons for hiding your existence, but he always intended to bring you back.”

Derek opened the file. Inside was a DNA test confirming his paternity, newspaper clippings of his mother—Isla Dawson—who had apparently vanished after a scandal two decades ago… and a letter addressed to him.

“Derek, if you’re reading this, then I have failed you by not coming sooner. I made enemies. Powerful enemies. To protect you, I gave you up. But your time has come. The Dawson name, its legacy, its enemies—they’re yours now. Own them. Rule them. And trust no one.”

Derek closed the letter with trembling hands.

“Your grandfather believed you were the only one who could restore this family,” Alaric said quietly. “But it won’t be easy. The Board doesn’t trust you. The press will eat you alive. And worse… someone inside this house wants you gone.”

Derek’s gaze sharpened. “You think they’ll come after me?”

Alaric smiled grimly. “They already are.”

Just then, a knock interrupted them.

A tall, sharp-faced woman entered, draped in a power suit and a colder-than-steel stare. “So,” she said, voice clipped, “this is the stray the old man left us.”

“Derek, this is Miranda Dawson,” Alaric said. “Your grandfather’s niece—and head of public relations.”

Miranda’s eyes narrowed. “You don’t belong here, Derek. And if you think a signature on a will makes you a Dawson, you’re sorely mistaken.”

Derek stood. “I didn’t ask for this life. But now that I have it, I’m not going anywhere.”

She smirked. “Then welcome to the wolves’ den.”

She turned on her heel and left.

Alaric sighed. “That went better than I expected.”

Derek sat back down, adrenaline humming in his veins. He had gone from invisible intern to heir of an empire, and already, the knives were out.

“Where do we start?” he asked.

Alaric opened the laptop. “By stepping into the Boardroom tomorrow. The press will be there. And so will every enemy your grandfather ever made. You’ll need to prove you’re more than just the ‘lost grandson.’ You’ll need to be a Dawson.”

Outside, the rain had stopped, but the storm was only just beginning.