The Charismatic Student Heir

005

Marcus woke to the sharp smell of disinfectant and the soft beeping of machines. His eyelids twitched before they fully lifted, revealing a white ceiling so clean it practically gleamed. He blinked again, confused, disoriented and his feeling strangely lighter, wrapped in fresh sheets.

A soft voice snapped him back.

“You’re awake,” a nurse said, smiling warmly. She moved closer, checking an IV line running into his arm. “Don’t worry, you’re safe. Just relax.”

But Marcus didn’t relax. His eyes darted around the room, and the shock hit him instantly.

This wasn’t a normal hospital room.

This room looked like a luxury suite disguised as a medical ward. Gold trim lined the walls. The equipment looked brand new—top of the line. The seats in the corner were the kind CEOs put in executive lounges. Even the air smelled expensive.

Marcus’s heart jumped.

“This… where am I?” he croaked.

“The Royal Crest Medical Center,” the nurse replied with a polite smile.

Marcus’s eyes widened. Royal Crest. The most expensive hospital in the entire city. A place only politicians, billionaires, and celebrity heirs used.

“No. No, no, no,” Marcus muttered, panic spiking through him. “I—I shouldn’t be here. I can’t afford this place. I need to leave. Now.”

He imagined a mistake and then being made to work for the rest of his life to pay the bills when he had a lot to Carter for, especially his sister.

He tried sitting up, but the pain in his ribs screamed at him. The nurse gently pushed him back down.

“You need to rest. You suffered multiple bruises and internal shocks.”

“I don’t care,” Marcus snapped, breathing fast. “This place costs millions. I’m just a scholarship student! I can’t pay for this, I can’t even pay for one hour, let me leave before you people bill me and..."

The door opened and Duke, the same grey haired old man that had called in 'Young Master' walked in, calm and controlled.

His grey hair slicked back, his expression unreadable but sharp enough to silence the entire room. The nurse gave a respectful bow before stepping aside.

Marcus tensed immediately. “Sir… Thank you for saving my life. But please, I , I need to go. I don’t have money for this hospital..."

“You’re not paying anything,” Duke said simply.

Marcus blinked, confused. “But, this is Royal Crest… this place is, ”

“Under my name, you own the place." Duke revealed

Marcus froze.

His mouth opened… then closed… then opened again because the words simply didn’t make sense.

“My name…?” Marcus whispered.

“Yes.”

Then Marcus let's out a long laughter like he was mad.

"Under my name and I can barely afford to eat three square meals daily!"

"I knew it from the start. Sir, I'm very sorry but you have the wrong person.

I’m not rich. I’m not from any big family. I’m a poor student. I work nights to survive. I don’t even have my own apartment, I share with two guys and I can barely pay my sister's boarding fees I swear you must have mistaken me for someone else.”

Duke stepped closer, placing a steady hand on the end of the bed. His eyes softened slightly.

“You are not mistaken, young master.”

Marcus’s chest tightened at those words. “Please stop calling me that,” he said quietly, frustration shaking his voice. “I’m not a young master. I’m just… Marcus. Nobody. Nothing special.”

Duke shook his head slowly. “You are Marcus Trevor.”

Marcus frowned deeply. “Trevor? What Trevor? I don’t know any Trevor."

"I will explain everything to you and you would understand!"

Duke interrupted, his voice firm but gentle.

“Your father is a trillionaire.”

Marcus stared.

Then he laughed nervously. “No. No, this, sir, this is crazy. My father left when I was a kid. My mother raised me alone. We were poor. We struggled. My whole life has been one long struggle. A trillionaire wouldn’t leave his son in the slums.”

Duke stepped closer, eyes locked on Marcus like he was staring at living truth.

“You were separated,” Duke said calmly. “During a shipwreck. And she's not your mother neither is your sister your biological sister. Somehow, you escaped that night and they must have picked you up from the shores, and the waters washed away their prints.

That's why we searched for you and couldn't find you. Your biological mother died while giving birth to you. This happened when you were aged 5." Duke continued to explain

Marcus froze again.

A shipwreck.

That word stabbed deep because he had faint childhood memories of water, panic, cold waves, shouting, then darkness. Memories he always assumed were nightmares.

Duke continued. “Your father searched for years. He never stopped. The entire Trevor family spent fortunes trying to find you and your mother.”

Marcus’s hands shook. He didn’t want to believe it. But something inside him trembled—like hidden memories were fighting their way up.

Duke went on. “Recently, someone notified your father. They said there was a young man in a college, a brilliant student, hard-working, with the exact face of the woman he lost.”

Marcus swallowed hard. “They… they’re wrong. I don’t have anyone. I don’t belong to any big family. I’m my mother's son and my sisters brother!" The reality of it remain too wide for him to grasp.

Duke lifted a small folder he’d been holding.

“I knew you would say that, young master,” he said. “That’s why we didn’t rely on words.”

He opened the folder.

Marcus’s breath caught as he saw sealed documents, several sheets stamped with official hospital seals, and two printed test results.

“We took your blood and hair samples last night,” Duke said. “We ran a full genetic test.”

Marcus’s heart hammered. “You, you what?”

Duke nodded slowly.

“And the results came back a few hours ago.”

He turned the pages around and placed them gently on Marcus’s lap.

Marcus stared down, hands trembling violently.

There it was. Printed in bold.

PATERNITY MATCH: 99.99999%

MATCHED TO: TREVOR ST. CLAIRE; PRIMARY HEIR

Marcus felt his entire body turn cold.

“We did not find the wrong person,” Duke said.

“We found the lost heir of one of the wealthiest men in the country.”