THE HEIR'S REVENGE

Chapter 12

Brandon stared at his coffee cup, unusually quiet. When he spoke, his voice was different—honest in a way I'd never heard from him before. "You know what my father said when I told him I lost to you? He said it was the best thing that could have happened to me. Said I'd been an arrogant fool who needed to learn that money doesn't make you superior." He looked up at me. "You could have destroyed me after winning that bet. Made me crawl, humiliated me every day. But you didn't. You just asked me to get you a milkshake and left it at that."

"You're still calling me Master," I pointed out.

"Because I gave my word," Brandon said firmly. "And maybe because I'm learning something. You went from having nothing to having everything, but you didn't become like us—like how I was. You're still you, just with power now." He pulled out his car keys. "My car's outside. Let me drive you to the penthouse. Daniel's guys won't recognize my vehicle."

The drive through the rain-soaked city took twenty minutes. Brandon's Mercedes moved through traffic like a shark through water, smooth and predatory. The Regency Building rose into the gray sky like a glass mountain, its top floors hidden in low-hanging clouds.

"Ever been inside?" Brandon asked as we pulled into the underground parking garage.

"No," I admitted, looking at the pristine concrete and expensive cars. Every parking space had a number, and most were filled with vehicles that cost more than houses. "This is all new to me."

Brandon parked in a visitor spot, and we walked to a private elevator marked "Penthouse Access Only." There was a scanner beside it—not for a key card, but for biometrics. I pressed my hand against it, half-expecting nothing to happen. The scanner glowed green, and a pleasant voice said, "Welcome home, Mr. Blackwell."

The elevator was silent except for soft classical music. We rose through the building like we were flying, the numbers climbing rapidly. Twenty floors. Twenty-five. Twenty-eight. Twenty-nine. Thirty.

The doors opened directly into the penthouse, and my breath caught. The entire space was open, with floor-to-ceiling windows showing the city spread out below like a carpet of lights. The rain made everything shimmer and blur, turning the view into an impressionist painting. The furniture was modern but comfortable—white leather couches, dark wood tables, abstract art on the walls.

"This is incredible," Brandon breathed, walking to the windows. "You can see the entire city from here."

I explored the space, finding three bedrooms, a fully equipped kitchen, an office with a massive desk, and a bathroom bigger than my old basement room. Everything was clean, like someone had been maintaining it even though no one lived here. In the master bedroom, I found a photo on the nightstand—my grandfather as a younger man, standing with a woman and a small girl. My grandmother and my mother.

My phone buzzed. Henry calling.

"Young master, are you at the penthouse?" he asked when I answered.

"Yes. How did you know?"

"The building security notified me when you accessed the elevator. I'm glad you're somewhere safe. Mr. Cross called—he's already found something interesting in the financial records."

"Already? It's only been an hour."

"He works quickly," Henry said. "Also, Miss Lily is asking when you'll be home for dinner. She made you a drawing of a rabbit family."

My chest tightened. With everything happening, I'd barely seen Lily today. "Tell her I'll be there in an hour. I just need to check something here first."

After hanging up, I found Brandon in the office, staring at a wall of books. "These are all business journals and financial reports," he said. "Your grandfather documented everything."

I pulled out a leather journal at random and opened it. My grandfather's handwriting filled the pages—notes about companies, people, strategies. One entry caught my eye, dated just a month ago: "The boy needs to be found. Sarah's son. Time is running out, and the vultures are circling. Victoria Pierce knows more than she admits. Must protect the family legacy from those who would destroy it."

"He knew," I whispered. "He knew about Victoria before he died."

Brandon read over my shoulder. "Then why didn't he do something?"

"Maybe he was," I said, closing the journal carefully. "Maybe finding me was his something."

My phone buzzed again. Unknown number. I showed it to Brandon before answering.

"Mr. Blackwell?" Maxwell's voice was urgent. "I found something you need to know immediately. Those monthly payments Victoria was making? They went to an account registered to a private nursing facility. A very expensive, very discrete facility that specializes in keeping people alive who should have died years ago."

"What are you saying?"

"I'm saying Victoria Pierce has been keeping someone hidden for three years. Someone whose medical care costs fifty thousand dollars a month. Someone she doesn't want anyone to know about." He paused. "Mr. Blackwell, I think one of Lily's parents might still be alive."

The phone nearly slipped from my hand. The room spun for a moment before I forced myself to focus. If one of Lily's parents was alive, everything changed. Everything.

"Are you certain?" I asked, my voice barely steady.

"Certain enough to stake my reputation on it," Maxwell said. "I'm heading to the facility now. It's two hours outside the city. I'll call you when I know more."

The line went dead. I stood there, holding the phone, my mind racing. Lily had been mourning her parents for three years. If one of them was alive, hidden away by Victoria...

"What is it?" Brandon asked, seeing my expression.

"We might have just found Victoria's biggest secret," I said. "And if I'm right, she's going to do anything to keep it buried."