THE HEIR OF FORTUNE

Chapter 3: The Taste of Power

The first time Aiden stepped into the Remington Consortium’s headquarters, the building itself tried to swallow him whole, Skyscrapers loomed around it like nervous neighbors. But this tower, pure glass and steel, crowned with the golden R-stood silent and dominant over the city skyline.

Inside, men in earpieces flanked his every move. Assistants whispered his name as he passed. Cameras tracked him from every angle. But what struck him most was the silence, the kind of silence that came from absolute control.

His control. Evelyn walked at his side, tablet in hand, black heels tapping like a metronome of urgency, “You’ll meet with the PR team first. Then legal. Then security. And at 4 PM, you’ll make your first appearance as heir at the company gala.”

Aiden raised an eyebrow. “Gala?”

“Public exposure,” she said. “You need to be seen. Strong. Commanding. Not confused and overwhelmed.”

He laughed dryly. “Then maybe cancel it.”

“No.” She stopped walking. “If you look weak now, they will bury you. So you will speak. You will stand. And you will smile like you own the sky.”

The PR team was ruthless. They changed his clothes, cut his hair, shoved cologne at him like it could hide years of poverty. By the end, Aiden stood in front of a mirror in a charcoal-black suit, looking like someone who knew what a stock merger was, even if he still didn’t.

He barely recognized himself, Then came the call.Evelyn handed him a phone. “It’s... her.” Aiden’s breath caught. He pressed the device to his ear. “Hello?”

Her voice trembled. “Aiden? It’s Melissa…”

He almost laughed. The universe had such a sense of humor. “I just heard what happened. Is it… is it true? Are you really… the heir to Remington?”

“Yes,” he said flatly. “Why do you care?”

There was a pause. Then sniffles. “I—I made a mistake. I was scared. Jason told me things about you… I didn’t mean to hurt you. I was just, confused.”

“Confused,” he repeated. “Right.”

“I just… I miss you.” Aiden said nothing for a long moment. Then: “Melissa.”

“Yes?”

“There’s a gala tonight. You’re invited.”

Hope surged in her voice. “Really?”

“I want everyone there to see exactly what they threw away.” That evening, the Remington Grand Ballroom shimmered with light and money, Crystal chandeliers. A ten-piece orchestra. Journalists circling like sharks in gowns. The elite of the city had come, tycoons, politicians, movie stars. Aiden entered with Evelyn on his arm, dressed like vengeance itself.

Gasps rippled through the crowd. Photographers snapped nonstop. Rumors erupted, The poor, fired loser? Now the most powerful man in the city? Evelyn leaned in, voice smooth. “Smile. And destroy.”

Aiden did just that, Melissa arrived late, Dressed in glittering red, heels clicking nervously, she scanned the room until her eyes found him. Her jaw dropped, He didn’t greet her. Instead, he turned to the reporters as the lights dimmed and the MC called out: “Ladies and gentlemen, your new Chairman, Mr. Aiden Remington-Cole.”

Thunderous applause, Aiden stepped to the mic. He took a breath. And with a calm he didn’t know he possessed, he spoke: “Less than a week ago, I was no one. I was mocked. Fired. Left behind.”

The crowd shifted uneasily. “But I’ve learned something: what they call weakness is often just unshaped strength. And what they call power… is often just noise.” He locked eyes with Melissa in the crowd.

“I’m not here to impress those who ignored me. I’m here to remind them that kings are often born in gutters.” Silence. Then roaring applause, Melissa stepped forward. “Aiden, I”

He turned from the mic and gently touched her shoulder. The cameras zoomed in. “You were right, Melissa,” he said with a cold smile. “I did have nothing.” Then his voice dropped low enough for only her to hear.

“Which means you gave me up for the price of nothing.” Her eyes filled with tears. Aiden walked away. The press captured it all, Backstage, as the crowd buzzed and guests mingled, Aiden stood alone for a breath of air, Then came the whisper of a voice.

“You’re braver than you look.” He turned. A woman stood there long black dress, short dark hair, one green eye and one pale blue. She was beautiful, yes, but there was something more. Something dangerous. “And you are?” he asked.

She held up a glass of champagne, untouched. “Someone who’s been watching the Remington seat for years. And someone who knows that seat comes with shadows.” He studied her. “Are you a threat?”

She smiled. “Depends. Are you smart enough to see what’s coming?” Then she vanished into the crowd. Later that night, in a dark surveillance room beneath the estate, Evelyn and Whitmore review a live satellite feed.

“Sir,” one guard reports, “your cousin Jason was spotted entering the Sovereign Hotel with two known members of the Lang syndicate. Looks like a strategy meeting.”

Whitmore grimaces. “They’re moving faster than expected.” Evelyn crosses her arms. “He knows. Jason’s not just after the inheritance anymore.”

“Then what?” Whitmore asks. Evelyn’s voice is a whisper. “He wants Aiden dead.”