THE RETURN OF THE TRILLIONAIRE HEIR

Chapter Seven

The lead car moved closer, black and shiny even in the heavy rain, drops sliding down its surface like silver, catching the little light left in the stormy afternoon.

It slowed as it reached Rico and finally stopped right in front of him.

For a moment, nothing happened. Only the sound of rain tapping against the sleek metal filled the air. Then, slowly, the tinted window began to roll down.

Rico was too absorbed in trying to salvage his soaked belongings to notice. He bent over, shoving wet clothes and a waterlogged mattress into a corner, muttering under his breath, “Why even bother… nothing’s worth saving…”

He pulled at the mattress, trying to make it flat, trying to imagine a place he could rest, even if only for a few hours that night.

The dark window slid down only briefly before a tall, imposing bodyguard stepped forward and opened the middle door of the vehicle.

Two more men followed, dressed in immaculate black suits, their shoes shining as if polished for a royal audience.

They moved in perfect unison, watching the street carefully for any sign of danger.

Rico barely looked up, assuming they were here for someone else. He had too much to worry about to care.

From a cracked window across the street, neighbors whispered, their curiosity spilling into the storm. “Who do you think that is?” one woman asked, her voice trembling. “Some VIP, maybe,” her companion replied.

Rico ignored them entirely, returning to his task, shoving soaked clothes and the mattress into a corner, trying to ignore the strange intrusion into his street.

The guards stepped aside and an older man emerged from the car, tall, composed, and refined, carrying the kind of presence that seemed to demand attention without a single word. He looked at a a man from rich families in movies.

Rico still did not look up, thinking, what could they want with me? I’m nobody. I’m just trying to survive.

The man approached, a guard holding an umbrella over him, and when he reached Rico, he bowed slightly. “Young Master,” he said, his voice deep and steady.

Rico ignored him at first, sure the man wasn’t speaking to him. But the stranger called again, and this time he touched Rico lightly on the shoulder. “Young Master,” he said, his voice low and certain. Rico froze, gripping the wet mattress tighter, his heart skipping a beat.

Rico pulled back slightly, staring at the man in disbelief. “Me?” he asked, his voice shaking. “You mean me?” He gave a short, bitter laugh. “Right. Sure. And I’m the King of England.” He gestured at his soaked, ragged clothes. “You’ve got the wrong guy.”

“There is no mistake,” the man said calmly, tapping his cane against the ground. The sharp sound made Rico flinch. “I’ve been searching for you for years. When I saw the hotel footage, I knew it was you.”

Rico’s chest tightened, and heat rose to his face. He shook his head, stepping back. “What video clip? I’m sure you’ve mistaken me for someone else,” he said, his voice trembling with frustration and disbelief.

“The clip from the hotel,” the man said, calm and certain. “And the delivery you went on a few hours ago… the one that didn’t end well… led us straight to you. We’ve been tracking you ever since.”

Rico’s stomach sank, a sharp punch of memory hitting him—Melina, the chaos, the humiliation he had tried so hard to forget. . L

He hadn’t even known anyone was recording. His face was probably all over social media by now, with people laughing at him and mocking him.

That moment of humiliation was out there for everyone to see. His stomach twisted, heat rising to his face as shame and anger mixed together. His hands shook, and he gripped the wet mattress tighter, wishing he could make it all go away. Every memory of Melina, the chaos, the shocked faceshit him all at once, and he felt like he was drowning in his own embarrassment.

He swallowed hard, his hands trembling as he tried to steady them“No… that… that can’t be me,” he muttered, his voice tight with anger and shame. “I… I’m nobody. Just… just leave me alone!”

The man stepped closer, his gaze steady and unshaken, as if the rain and storm around them meant nothing. “I wish I could leave you be,” he said quietly, “but I can’t. Your grandfather sent me, he wants to see you.”

Rico shook his head, bitter laughter escaping his lips. “Grandfather? I don’t know him. I definitely don’t have a grandfather who walks around with bodyguards and gold-tipped canes,” he said, gesturing toward the car and the suited men. “Look at me! I am nothing, I am just trying to survive here!”

The man’s expression remained calm but firm. "Your grandfather has been waiting a very long time to see you. This is not something you should walk away from.”

Rico sank down onto the wet ground, hugging the mattress to his chest, his head bowed. “I… I’m nobody. I’ve done nothing. Why me? Why now?” His voice cracked as anger, fear, and shame spilled out.

The stranger crouched slightly, keeping his distance but never losing eye contact. “Because you are not nobody. Your life has been missing pieces that only your family can fill. We can fix what’s been broken, but only if you go with us.”

Rico shook his head again, tears mixing with the rain. “I can’t… I can’t trust anyone. Not after everything. I… I just want to be left alone!”

The man’s expression softened, but his voice stayed firm. “Your grandfather is waiting. He wants to see you now. Please go with us."

Rico hugged the mattress tighter, heart racing, mind spinning, unsure whether he wanted to listen. He could not believe anyone after all he had lost.