2025-05-28 04:46:57The car door remained open, silent as the rain peppered the pavement. I stared at the black leather interior, unsure if I was hallucinating. Maybe I hit my head harder than I thought. Maybe Jordan had punched me straight into a fever dream.
But the car was real. And someone was waiting. I hesitated. I could still turn around, go home, lick my wounds, try to explain to my grandma why I’d been suspended and didn’t fight harder to stay in school. But my legs didn’t listen. They moved on their own. I slid into the backseat, soaked hoodie dripping onto the plush carpeted floor. The door closed automatically behind me with a soft hiss. Inside, the air smelled like expensive cologne and leather polish. The divider between the driver and the back was up, blacked out. But I wasn’t alone. A man sat across from me in the wide backseat, dressed in a charcoal suit that probably cost more than everything I owned. He looked to be in his mid-forties, with a hard face, graying temples, and eyes that didn’t blink often. He studied me in silence, then gave a single nod. “Mr. Turner. You’re punctual.” “I wasn’t exactly invited,” I muttered. His lips twitched into something that wasn’t quite a smile. “And yet, here you are. That says something about your instincts.” I leaned back, arms crossed. “Who are you? And why are you stalking me?” He didn’t flinch. Instead, he reached into his coat and pulled out a small silver case. He flipped it open, revealing a single sterile syringe and a capped vial. “What the hell is that?” “I need a blood sample,” he said calmly. I blinked. “Excuse me?” “I believe you’re aware your father was not just a mechanic from Southbridge, as you were told.” I looked at the man and I knew he knows too well about me. My grandmother had always told me stories about my father but wasn't interested in some mechanic who didn't leave me with anything but just some junk bicycle which I used in cycling myself down to school everyday. My entire body went still. “You knew my father?” He nodded. “Intimately. And, more importantly, I know the truth about his legacy. About the system you’ve tapped into. But before we talk about that, I need to confirm you are, in fact, his son. Having a DNA sample will prove you are what we believed you to be.” He held out the vial, expectant. I stared at it like it might bite me. “You can’t just… you can’t just ask someone for their blood.” “I could take it without asking. But that would be rude.” He tilted his head. “Consider this a courtesy. If you refuse, this conversation ends here. And the opportunity your father left behind? Gone.” I swallowed. The air was a bit stuffy and my breathing was harder than usual. A simple drop of my blood could change everything. " Of course you can walk away with the initial money in your bank account. That was just a formality by the way. You are not the first stray kid we will be picking up." I didn’t trust him. But the system—the messages, the task, the approval—none of it made sense. And this man? He seemed to know exactly what it all meant. I extended my arm. “Fine. Make it quick.” He worked with practiced efficiency, swabbing my skin and drawing a small sample. He sealed the vial and tucked it back into the silver case, then placed it inside a hidden compartment beside his seat. I rubbed the spot on my arm and glared at him. “Now talk.” “Your father, Nathaniel Turner, was part of a program—one far beyond the scope of this city, this country even. He wasn’t a mechanic. He was a designer. A creator. What you’ve experienced—the tasks, the messages—it’s called the Legacy Protocol.” “Legacy…?” “It activates for direct bloodline descendants. It chooses those it deems worthy, those who show initiative.” I froze. “That was the word. From the message.” He nodded again. “Because you passed the first test. The smallest of them.” “What happens now?” He leaned in slightly. “Now you begin the real trials. If you survive them, the Turner legacy will be yours. Wealth. Power. Influence beyond anything you’ve imagined.” “And if I fail?” His expression hardened. “You’ll be forgotten. And someone else will inherit what was meant for you.” My stomach twisted, but before I could say another word, a call came in through the car’s internal system. The man pressed a button, and a woman’s voice filtered through. “Sir, I have an update from Crestwood Academy.” He raised a brow and glanced at me. “Speak.” “There’s been an incident. Eli Turner’s grandmother appeared at the school unexpectedly. She demanded to speak to the dean—insisted her grandson would never lay a hand on anyone unless provoked.” My heart skipped. “She refused to leave until she was allowed to meet with Mr. Collings and Jordan’s parents. There was a scene, sir. She… she told them off in front of the entire administrative staff.” I blinked, stunned. “She said, and I quote, ‘My Eli may not be born into money, but he’s got more decency in his pinky finger than your whole lot combined.’” The video boomed out with Jordan's voice loud and clear. " Why don't you bend the knee old woman. I bet I am going to make it all disappear if you will just knee and beg for mercy. " No,no. Don't mother!" I shouted as I yanked the car door opened. I looked back as I ran fast, my breath etched. The ground was bit slippery. I fell and got up each time, racing. " Do you want us to go after him?" The chauffeur said looking at me as I kept running. " No, we have what we came for. If he is the one then we would interfere. For now, this is not our battle."
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CHAPTER NINE
I could barely sleep. I lket wondering who sent the money and his they knew that I needed it. I shove my phone that kept making a funny sound in my face.. Ever since I left the grand hall of Crestwood. It has been tons of messages and friend request. Most of the students wanted to know who I really am. Who my parents were? Amd most importantly why I had been hiding the fact that I was rich. But the truth was that, I wasn't. I was just some street rat whose blood was collected to be tested if I was the real deal. My mind flashed back as I remembered what he said. Was I the lost long kid afterall? Or did he just took pity on me and sent me the money? No one sends that amount of money except if only...I couldn't think strait. I looked at my phone and saw the student forum had been blowned up with losts of pictures and video about what happened that day. But why did Cindy bet on me? Did she know something that I didn't? Cindy was one of the richest kids in
CHAPTER EIGHT
" Do you think he has the money?" " Eli is always a loafer and will forever be. Do you even see his shoes?" [ Some of the kids laughed. ] " I bet he does not have the money to pay. He is only stalling. Trying to buy more time." " And what if he is not?" " Have you seen the guy? He can barely afford lunch. What does that tells you?" " I had Jordan's father just bought the most biggest house in the city. Did you get an invite for the house warming party?" A girl in a short skimpy dresss asked looking at her friend. " No." " Huh? That means you are of lower class. I should watch the kind of friends move with." She said laughing " Ten thousand grand on Eli that he is bluffing." Tracy Stewart said laughing. Most of the students all began to drop their money all betting against me. But then a girl came forwards. She was known to be on her own. She was like the queen in the school and many feared her for some unreasons I know nothing about. " One thousand g
CHAPTER SEVEN
The rain had stopped by the time I reached Crestwood’s front courtyard, but the damage had already been done. Students were gathered in clusters, whispering, filming, laughing—phones pointed like weapons at the center of it all. In the middle, my grandmother stood, her coat soaked, curls frizzed from the drizzle, her back ramrod straight as she faced down Jordan and two of his usual shadows. Jordan was smiling like he was on stage. “Come on, old lady. Just say it. Kneel and beg, and maybe I’ll forgive your little grandson’s temper tantrum.” The crowd chuckled. “Show some humility,” one of his cronies added. My blood boiled. I shoved past a pair of junior girls, storming into the circle like a bull. “Grandma!” I shouted, voice cracking with urgency. “Get up! You don’t have to talk to them.” I said in anger shoving my way through the clustering crowd that were hovering over my grandmother who was on her knees. She turned toward me, her expression equal parts relief and fury. “E
CHAPTER SIX
The car door remained open, silent as the rain peppered the pavement. I stared at the black leather interior, unsure if I was hallucinating. Maybe I hit my head harder than I thought. Maybe Jordan had punched me straight into a fever dream. But the car was real. And someone was waiting. I hesitated. I could still turn around, go home, lick my wounds, try to explain to my grandma why I’d been suspended and didn’t fight harder to stay in school. But my legs didn’t listen. They moved on their own. I slid into the backseat, soaked hoodie dripping onto the plush carpeted floor. The door closed automatically behind me with a soft hiss. Inside, the air smelled like expensive cologne and leather polish. The divider between the driver and the back was up, blacked out. But I wasn’t alone. A man sat across from me in the wide backseat, dressed in a charcoal suit that probably cost more than everything I owned. He looked to be in his mid-forties, with a hard face, graying temples, and
CHAPTER FIVE
It went through. No error. No decline. Just a beep. “Approved,” she mumbled, stunned. People started cheering. Some clapped me on the back. Even Jordan looked confused from across the room. I didn’t say a word. I just walked away. That night, I got another message. > [Well done, Mr. Turner. You’ve shown initiative. Your next task arrives tomorrow.] I stared at the screen with disbelief. Who am I? The euphoria of the cafeteria victory faded faster than I expected. By the next morning, I was nobody again. The whispers returned, laced with bitterness instead of awe. “Bet it was a one-time thing.” “Probably stole it.” “Didn’t you hear? That was his grandma’s pension money.” I tried to ignore them, but it was like walking through a swarm of flies. Persistent. Annoying. Biting. And, of course, Jordan was waiting. He caught up with me outside the locker room after gym, where I’d stayed behind to change. Everyone else was gone, and I was just tightening
CHAPTER FOUR
My gaze was fixed on the screen. Just those two words: Yes / No. Simple. Plain. But they felt like a loaded gun pointed straight at me. My thumb hovered, shaking. Every logical part of my brain screamed Don't. This was insane. Creepy. Probably illegal. I should delete the message, block the number, call the bank, call the cops, do something normal. But then again, normal never got me anywhere. Not when normal meant watching my grandmother cough through the night because we couldn’t afford the good medicine. Not when normal meant skipping meals so she could eat. Not when normal meant walking to school with my shoes coming apart and pretending it didn’t bother me when Jordan and his gang laughed at me in front of everyone. $50,000 wasn’t normal. And maybe… neither was I. I took a shaky breath, the air thick in my throat. Then, I tapped Yes. Nothing happened. No confetti, no dramatic music. Just the message disappearing, like it had never been there. I stared at the
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