THE RETURN OF THE TRILLIONAIRE HEIR

Chapter Nine

“We are here,” the older man said as the car stopped in front of the tall gates.

Rico pressed his face closer to the window, eyes wide in surprise. His chest tightened, and he let out a shaky breath. “It’s… it’s huge,” he whispered, hardly believing his own eyes. He had never seen anything like this in his life, and the sheer size of it left him stunned.

The older man glanced at him, his voice steady. “You’ll get used to it.”

The gates slid open and the car drove inside. Rico’s breath caught as the mansion came into view. Its walls bright under the lights, the windows glowing like stars. His stomach turned with nerves as he looked around.

“This… this can’t be real. Where is this place?” he asked, his voice shaking.

“This is your home now,” the man answered calmly.

“My… my home?” Rico repeated, almost choking on the word. It didn’t sound right. Not for him.

The car stopped. Rico grabbed the door handle, his hand trembling, but the man placed a hand on his arm.

“No, wait. Let them,” he said.

Rico froze, pulling his hand back quickly. A second later, two guards in sharp uniforms stepped forward and opened the doors for him.

He stepped out slowly, his legs unsteady, his mouth slightly open as he looked around. The tall pillars, the wide steps, the fountains shooting water into the night—it was all too much.

“I can’t believe this,” he whispered to himself.

A girl walked toward him. She moved gracefully, her dark hair tied neatly, her uniform crisp. She bowed politely.

“My name is Zaya,” she said softly. “I have been asked to help you clean and prepare.”

Rico’s face grew hot. He tugged at his dirty shirt, feeling shame rise up inside him. “No… I’ll do that myself.”

Zaya looked up, surprised. “But young master, it is my duty—”

Rico shook his head quickly. “I said I’ll do it myself,” he muttered, his voice thick with embarrassment.

Zaya lowered her head. “As my young master pleases,” she said quietly, before stepping back.

Rico stood still, his heart racing. The words kept echoing in his head. Young master.

He could not believe what as happening at all.

The older man nodded, and the guards stepped aside.

Rico hesitated. His feet felt heavy. “Do I… do I really go in there?” he asked, his voice small.

“Yes,” the man said calmly. “This is your home.”

“My home?” Rico repeated. He shook his head quickly. “No… no, that can’t be right. I’ve never even seen a place like this before. This isn’t for me.”

The man only gave a quiet look, one that told Rico not to argue.

The front doors opened wide, and the light spilled out. Two attendants bowed low, their heads bent as if he were someone important. Rico froze, staring at them.

“Why are they doing that?” he whispered to the older man.

“Because you are the young master,” the man said simply.

Rico’s stomach tightened. He looked at the floor, not knowing what to say. The words didn’t fit him at all.

“This way, young master,” Zaya said softly, stepping forward.

Rico followed slowly, his eyes darting around the hallway. Servants lined the walls, bowing as he walked past. He leaned toward Zaya. “They keep doing that… bowing. I don’t like it. I don’t understand it.”

Zaya’s voice was calm. “It is respect. You are the young master.”

Rico bit his lip. “Respect? For me? That doesn’t make sense.”

No one answered him. They only kept walking until they reached a wide staircase. Zaya moved up gracefully, and Rico dragged his feet behind her, glancing back once at the older man who was still watching silently.

At the top, Zaya opened a door and stepped aside. Rico blinked at the room in front of him.

“This… this is supposed to be mine?” he asked in disbelief.

“Yes,” Zaya said with a bow. “It has been prepared for you.”

Rico stepped inside slowly. “It’s bigger than my whole house. It doesn’t feel real.”

“It is real, young master,” Zaya said gently.

Rico turned to her, shaking his head. “Don’t call me that. I’m not… I’m not a master of anything.”

Her eyes softened, but she hesitated. “Young master… I cannot call you that. It is not my place. If I do, I could lose my position here.”

Rico’s shoulders dropped. He looked at her helplessly. “But I’m not a master. I’m just me. I don’t want people bowing or calling me things that don’t fit.”

Zaya lowered her gaze, her voice careful. “You may not want it, but it is who you are now. Whether you accept it or not, I must honor it. It is my duty.”

Rico clenched his fists. “So even if I beg you, you still can’t call me Rico?”

She gave a small shake of her head. “I am sorry, young master. It is not that I don’t respect you—it is because I must respect you.”

Rico turned away, his chest heavy. The words young master rang in his ears, cold and distant.

The older man’s voice came from the doorway, calm and firm. “She is right. This is who you are now. Whether you believe it or not, this is your life.”

Rico spun around, his voice sharp. “But why me? Why would anyone want me here?”

The man’s eyes held something unreadable. “That,” he said slowly, “you will understand in time.”

Rico sighed deeply and looked down. He was too amazed by what he was seeing and didn’t know what to do. His eyes kept drifting back to the tall walls, the glowing lights, the space that felt larger than life.

“Get a bath,” the man said firmly. “Then come eat. You need it.”

Rico nodded slowly, still lost in awe. “Okay,” he whispered, his voice full of wonder.