THE UPRISING HEIR

Chapter 1: The Day the World Spat on Me

Rain beat down on the cracked pavements of Westgate City like punishment from the heavens. Dirty water pooled around the soles of Jayden Cole’s frayed sneakers, soaking through holes worn from too many days walking too many miles to dead end jobs.

He stood outside the glass-paneled entrance of TitanTech Solutions, shirt clinging to his skin, a resignation letter no, termination letter crumpled in one fist.

Inside, through the spotless window, the CEO, Mr. Grant Whitaker, laughed with a junior executive. Their suits were tailored, their wrists sparkling with watches worth more than Jayden made in a year. Moments earlier, that same CEO had tossed a handful of coins on the ground and sneered: “Here. Go buy yourself some pride.”

Jayden hadn’t flinched. He just stared, jaw clenched, heart aching. Not from the humiliation. He was used to that. It was the fact that he couldn’t even afford to get mad, Two Hours Earlier...

His stomach had rumbled all morning, no surprise, he hadn’t eaten since the day before. He was running on coffee and spite.

The office was buzzing. His colleagues were already murmuring, whispers about a company-wide downsizing. Jayden knew he was on the chopping block. He was always the first to go. Poor. Quiet. Disposable.

Still, he walked in early, like always. Sat at his desk. Completed his reports. Smiled at Lisa from accounting. Pretended everything was fine. It wasn’t.

Ten minutes into the meeting, HR called him up. “Budget cuts,” they said. “You understand.” He did. What he didn’t understand was the smirk on Mr. Whitaker’s face or the chuckle that escaped when he said, “Back to the slums, I guess.”

Jayden didn’t speak. He simply nodded, collected his things, just a small box of office junk and walked out into the storm. Present.

He walked for miles. No destination. No umbrella. Just cold wind and soaking denim. The world felt like it was actively trying to erase him, On a street corner, a man he once called his uncle stood laughing with two women. Jayden hadn't seen him in years, ever since his father died, and the family turned their backs on Jayden and his sick mother.

Uncle Darren spotted him and smirked. “Still wearing rags, I see,” he called out loud enough for the women to laugh. Jayden turned away. He wouldn't give them the satisfaction. Back at the apartment, the power was out. Again.

His mother lay curled up on the old couch, a damp towel on her forehead. His little sister, Mia, sat beside her, holding a half-eaten slice of bread. “Jay... did you eat today?” Mia asked.

Jayden forced a smile. “Yeah, had something at work.” Lies. He couldn’t bear to let her worry, As night fell, thunder cracked outside. The city’s glow didn’t reach this part of Westgate. All they had were candles, silence, and too much pain.

Jayden looked at his mother’s sunken cheeks, her shallow breathing. Hospital bills were mounting. No job. No help. No future. he stood at the window, watching lightning fork through the clouds, “I swear,” he whispered, “if I ever get the chance... just one chance... I’ll make the world regret every second it looked down on us.”

Midnight. A sound broke the silence. Engines. Multiple. Powerful. Smooth. Jayden peeked through the curtains, A convoy of black cars pulled up in front of the building. Glossy, armored, elegant. Not the kind you saw in slums like this. Doors opened in perfect synchronization. From the lead car, a man stepped out.

Tall. Impeccably dressed. Grey beard trimmed like precision. A pin shaped like a golden dragon gleamed on his lapel. he approached the building like he didn’t care how run-down it looked, like he already owned it, Knock. Knock. Jayden opened the door slowly. The man gave a short bow. “Mr. Jayden Cole?”

Jayden blinked. “Uh... yeah?”

The man extended a hand and presented a black envelope sealed with golden wax, bearing an ornate crest. A W, surrounded by flames. “I represent the Worldsen Consortium,” the man said. “It is my honor to inform you… you are the sole heir.” There was Silence.

Jayden looked at the envelope. Looked at the man. Then behind him at the cars, “This is a joke, right?” Jayden whispered. “Some sick prank?”

The man shook his head solemnly. “No, sir. The previous chairman, Wesley Worldsen, designated you, by blood and will, to inherit his empire.”

Jayden stepped back. “I don’t even know any Wesley Worldsen. And I sure as hell don’t have rich relatives.”

“You’d be surprised what’s been hidden from you. But everything will be explained. We are here to escort you to the estate. You’ll be briefed on the inheritance, the assets, and... the dangers.”

“Dangers?”

The man’s gaze hardened. “Power attracts enemies. The moment you accept, your life changes forever, for better and worse.”

Jayden glanced back at his apartment, his mother sleeping restlessly, his sister staring in wide-eyed confusion. He looked down at the envelope. It weighed heavy in his hand. Not just in mass. In destiny. “What if I say no?”

The man didn’t flinch. “Then someone else will. And you’ll return to a life where nothing changes.” Jayden stared at the seal again. He remembered Mr. Whitaker’s sneer. His ex’s laughter. His uncle’s mockery. His mother’s tears. Mia’s hunger.

“Then let’s go,” he said. The Convoy Ride, The leather seats smelled like new beginnings. Champagne waited on the side console. The window automatically tinted. Jayden gripped the envelope. His heart raced.

“Do I get to open this now?” he asked.

“Of course,” the suited man nodded. Jayden broke the seal. Inside: a single handwritten letter on thick, silver-edged paper.

Jayden, You do not know me, but I knew your father, He saved my life once, long ago, in a war neither of us should have survived. I owed him everything, I searched for years to find his son. Your mother did well hiding you, Now, I’m dying. I have no children. No heirs I trust. Only enemies pretending to be friends.

So I leave it all to you: my empire, my enemies, and the truth. But beware,money is not power, Information is. Find the vault. Find the truth. And trust no one completely. The world will now bow at your feet, or try to bury you. Welcome to the game.

W.W. Jayden’s breath caught, he looked up at the man in the suit. “Where are we going?”

The man smiled faintly. “To the estate. And after that... the world.” As the convoy raced past the slums, Jayden’s old life blurred behind him. Before the night ended, he would step into a world built on empires, secrets, and blood. And whether he liked it or not, he now ruled it.

As the convoy enters a private tunnel leading to the Worldsen estate, a sniper rifle is assembled on a rooftop two miles away. A man in shadow lifts a phone to his ear. “The heir has been found,” he says.

“Do I take the shot?”

A voice replies coldly: “No. Let him believe he’s safe… for now.”