THE HEIR OF FORTUNE

Chapter 2: The Legacy Contract

The moment Aiden stepped into the back seat of the sleek black car, the door closed with a soft click,  like the shutting of an old life, Inside, the vehicle was nothing like the world he came from. Soft leather seats, scent of cedarwood and luxury cologne, a touchscreen embedded in the panel beside him. A minibar. Ambient lighting.

Aiden sank into the seat, his mind racing. “Where are we going?” he asked after a long silence. Whitmore, seated across from him, adjusted his cufflinks without looking up. “To Remington Estate. Your primary residence as of ten minutes ago.”

Aiden blinked. “You’re serious. This isn’t a prank? A reality show? Something with hidden cameras?” The woman beside Whitmore turned slightly. She had sharp eyes, dark red lipstick, and a presence that demanded attention.

“Do we look like YouTubers to you?” she asked flatly. “My name is Evelyn Zhao. I’m your legal counsel. You’ll be working with me extensively.”

“Legal counsel?” Aiden repeated. “Wait… what exactly am I walking into here?” Whitmore handed him a leather-bound tablet.

The screen lit up: a sprawling document titled "Succession Protocol: Remington Consortium." Page after page scrolled by: asset lists, global holdings, security briefings, board member dossiers, real estate maps, offshore accounts, private armies “Wait,” Aiden interrupted, “did I just see 'submarine fleet' on page five?!”

“Yes,” Evelyn said. “One of seven. The previous heir had… ambitious projects.” Aiden dropped the tablet like it burned. “Okay. Okay, hold on. There’s no way I’m heir to this. I don’t know a thing about business. I’ve never even left the country! I’m just some nobody who used to bag groceries and fix broken copiers!”

Whitmore studied him with quiet amusement. “And yet here you are.”

“How?” Aiden asked, voice cracking. “Why me?” Evelyn pulled up a hologram image from her smart ring and tapped a small glowing icon. A photo appeared: a younger man, sharp eyes, dark hair, and a grin identical to Aiden’s.

“This is Caleb Remington, founder of the consortium,” Evelyn said. “Dead four days ago. No direct heirs.”

“Okay. So?” Whitmore folded his hands. “Caleb had a twin brother. Your grandfather. Who disappeared decades ago after… a disagreement. He changed his name. Lived in obscurity. But your DNA matched the old bloodline archives.”

“You’re his only living relative, Mr. Cole,” Evelyn said. “And according to the charter, inheritance flows by blood first, then board vote.”

“But if I don’t want it?” Aiden asked, heartbeat thundering in his ears. Evelyn stared coldly. “Then the board takes everything. Your cousin Jason becomes next in line. And you… probably won’t live long enough to regret it.” The car turned, and Remington Estate came into view.

It wasn’t a house. It was a fortress. Iron gates opened without a sound. Beyond them stretched manicured gardens, towering spires, a grand hall the size of a museum, and a private helipad with a chopper already warming up. Aiden could barely breathe. “This is insane,” he muttered.

“No,” Whitmore said calmly. “This is power.” They ushered him inside. Security scanned him. Staff in black suits lined the halls. He passed under chandeliers larger than his old apartment. Everything glowed with taste, elegance, and money.

A door opened into a long marble hall. At the end stood a conference room where ten men and women waited. Each wore suits that cost more than his entire wardrobe. One of them, a sharp-jawed man in his thirties with slicked-back hair, narrowed his eyes at Aiden with cold hatred.

Evelyn leaned in. “That’s Victor Lang. Board member. Formerly in line to take over if no heir surfaced.”

“And he’s not happy to see me,” Aiden muttered. “Understatement.” They entered.

Victor rose first. “So this is the ‘heir’?” His voice oozed contempt. “I’ve seen better-dressed interns at fast food chains.” The board chuckled lightly, Aiden stayed silent, Whitmore stepped forward, placing the succession document on the table.

“By Article 17-C of the Founding Protocol, and upon presentation of verified bloodline DNA, Mr. Aiden Cole is hereby acknowledged as sole heir to the Remington Consortium and granted executive authority effective immediately.”

The room fell still, Victor sneered. “This boy has no experience. No credibility. No connections. He’s a liability. I move to block the succession.”

“Motion denied,” Evelyn said before Aiden could open his mouth. “Article 19 overrides board consent in bloodline cases. Any obstruction is grounds for removal.”

Victor’s nostrils flared. But he sat, Aiden stepped forward, palms sweating, and signed his name on the final page of the document.

Aiden Remington-Cole, Back in his room, a luxury suite bigger than his entire building, Aiden stood alone at the window, staring out over the empire he’d just inherited.

This was real, He wasn’t poor anymore. He wasn’t invisible. He wasn’t broken. But as he turned to the mirror and saw himself in designer clothes he didn’t choose, in a palace that wasn’t really his…

He couldn’t help but wonder: Was he still Aiden? Or had he just become someone else’s weapon? Outside the Remington Estate, a car pulls up under the cover of night, Jason steps out,  Aiden’s cousin  dressed in a tailored coat, sipping expensive bourbon, and smirking as he watches the estate lights flicker, He dials a number. “Yeah. It’s me. He took the bait. Let’s begin.”