THE HEIR OF FORTUNE

Chapter 4: A Game of Sharks

Two days had passed since the gala, and the headlines hadn’t stopped. “Orphan to Overlord: Aiden Remington-Cole Declared Sole Heir.”  “From Fired to Fortune: The Cinderella Story of a Corporate King.”

“Mystery Woman Seen Speaking to Heir, Spy? Lover? Threat?”

Aiden stared at the digital articles glowing across his penthouse wall. He’d barely slept. Between PR briefings, press interviews, and legal signatures, his life had become a machine of constant motion. Yet even in the heart of wealth, his instincts screamed: You’re not safe.

At 9:00 a.m. sharp, Evelyn strode into the boardroom, her heels clicking like gunshots. “Lang just initiated an emergency vote to block your executive authority over RemCore Industries,” she said without preamble, Aiden blinked. “RemCore?”

“Energy division. Largest branch. Controls fifty-two percent of the consortium’s liquid cash flow.”

“Wait, they can block me?”

“If you fail the vote, yes,” she said. “The clause allows the board to challenge your decisions if they believe you're… 'compromised or incompetent.'”

Aiden's stomach dropped. “And Victor Lang controls the vote?”

“Most of it. He’s leveraged proxies, old allies, scared executives. If he wins, he cuts your power in half.”

“And if I lose that much...?”

“You become a puppet heir.” The board meeting began in the RemCore Tower sleek, cold, hostile. Aiden entered wearing the black suit from the gala, shoulders straight, jaw firm. He had no idea what he was doing, but he wouldn't let them see that.

Victor Lang was already there, smiling like a wolf. “Mr. Cole,” Victor said, standing to shake his hand. “We appreciate you taking the time to join us.”

Aiden didn’t move. “Save the fake civility.” Victor’s smile widened. “Bold. But bold doesn’t pay dividends.” The vote started. One by one, names lit up on the digital panel:

Lang – No.

Porter – No.

Zhu – No.

Ashcroft – Yes.

Silva – Abstain.

Kim – No.

Ivanov – Yes.

The count was tilting. Aiden’s heart pounded. When the final vote hit the screen… Majority: Against, Victor stood. “Effective immediately, Mr. Cole will no longer have unilateral control over RemCore’s strategic operations. The board will appoint oversight.”

Aiden’s jaw tightened. “You just gutted the heart of the company.”

Victor turned to leave. “No, Mr. Cole. I just reminded you, money doesn’t make you powerful. Knowledge does. Connections do. You? You're still playing catch-up.” Back at the estate, Aiden exploded. “They kneecapped me! They’re not even pretending anymore!”

Whitmore remained calm. “The board is testing you. They need to see if you’ll break.”

“I’m already breaking!” Aiden growled. “This isn’t business, this is war.” Evelyn spoke quietly. “Then start fighting like it.” Aiden looked between them. “How?” She tapped a case onto the table. It unlocked with a hiss. Inside were files. Dozens of them.

“Remington left you something,” she said. “Not money. Not weapons. Secrets. Dirt on every major board member. Hidden accounts. Illegal deals. Insurance policies.”

Aiden picked up one labeled Lang, V. and opened it. Inside: high-resolution images of Victor in a private room… shaking hands with known foreign arms dealers, Aiden’s hands trembled. “This is blackmail.”

“This,” Whitmore said, “is survival.” Later that night, Aiden sat on the rooftop of the estate, the wind tugging at his shirt, He opened his phone and scrolled past the missed calls, the emails, the chaos, Then one message stood out.

Sender: Unknown Subject: You’re Not Alone. “Careful, Aiden. They want more than your crown. Some of them want your blood. If you’re ready to know the truth, meet me. Alone. Midnight. Pier 7.” Aiden stared at the screen. He knew it could be a trap. But something inside him whispered: Go.

At Pier 7, the water was black, the fog thick. Aiden stepped carefully along the wooden planks, heart hammering, A silhouette waited at the edge. It was her, the woman from the gala. The one with mismatched eyes. She turned slowly as he approached, moonlight slicing across her face. “You came,” she said softly.

“Who are you?” Aiden asked. She held out a file. Inside: photos of Victor Lang... with Jason, Aiden’s cousin. “Your cousin isn’t working alone,” she said. “And your inheritance? It wasn’t an accident.

It was a setup.”