The Conglomerate Heir Awakens

2

Ethan was dragged down the stairs, his feet scraping against the hardwood. Every breath felt like knives, every step a reminder that his life was falling apart in seconds.

“Clara!” he gasped mid-struggle. “Where’s Mia? Let me see my daughter! Clara, please!”

Clara followed them down the stairs slowly, arms crossed, expression unreadable.

“She’s safe with my mother,” she said flatly. “You won’t be confusing her anymore.”

Confusing her?

She said it like he was already gone.

Outside, the night was pitch-dark. Wind slapped against Ethan’s face as the men shoved him into an SUV. Granger climbed into the passenger seat without looking back.

Clara stood by the front door for a moment. Ethan prayed — foolishly, desperately — that she’d run to him, say it was a mistake, tell the men to stop.

Instead she walked briskly to the car.

“I’m coming,” she said.

Granger raised an eyebrow. “You don’t need to be there.”

“I want to be there,” she replied. “I need to see it for myself.”

Ethan felt something in his chest crumble entirely.

The SUV roared to life and pulled away from the curb. Ethan struggled again, but a fist slammed into his ribs, shutting down every ounce of strength he had left.

The car sped through winding roads, the city lights fading into darkness.

Eventually the hum of the ocean replaced the hum of traffic.

Salt.

Wind.

A cliff waiting at the end of the road.

Ethan’s pulse pounded in terror.

“Please…” he whispered. “Don’t do this. I have a daughter. She needs me.”

Clara didn’t even look at him.

The SUV stopped abruptly on a rugged cliffside overlooking the churning sea. The moonlight was sharp enough to cut the sky in half.

The men hauled Ethan out of the vehicle. His knees buckled, but they forced him upright, dragging him toward the edge.

Granger walked behind them unhurriedly, hands in his pockets. Clara followed beside him, her robe tied tightly around her as the wind whipped her hair across her face.

Ethan turned his head toward her, pleading.

“Clara… please. Please don’t let them do this. Think about Mia. Think about what she’ll feel when she grows up and realizes—”

Clara stopped walking.

For a moment, Ethan thought something inside her had cracked. Her lips trembled, her eyes glistened—

—but only with annoyance, not sympathy.

“Don’t say her name,” she snapped. “You lost the right to call her yours the moment you became… this.”

“This?” Ethan croaked. “What did I do to deserve this?”

Clara didn’t answer.

Wind howled across the cliff, the waves crashing violently below. The ocean roared like a hungry beast.

Granger stepped close, leaning down until Ethan could feel his breath.

“Goodbye, Ethan. The world was never built for men like you. Soft. Gullible. Weak.”

Ethan’s vision blurred with tears.

“Mia…” he whispered helplessly. “Tell her Daddy—”

Granger shoved him hard.

Ethan’s feet left the ground.

His scream was swallowed by the wind.

The sea rose up like a black maw, devouring him whole.

It crushed him from all sides.

Cold. Bone-deep. Suffocating.

He drifted downward like a ragdoll, limbs numb, consciousness flickering. The world above became a blur of distorted moonlight.

Then something pressed against his chest.

Ethan’s fingers twitched weakly and brushed the silver pendant he had worn since childhood — a small, old-fashioned crest he barely noticed anymore. His mother’s last gift.

A faint warmth pulsed against his skin.

Then another.

And suddenly, the pendant flared, releasing a soft golden radiance that cut through the black water. The glow grew brighter, brighter still, surrounding his sinking body in shifting patterns of light.

The necklace vibrated, humming with a low, ancient resonance that seemed to speak directly into his bones.

Ethan’s drowning lungs froze.

His vision sharpened for a heartbeat.

The crest’s symbol — an intricate serpent coiled around a sun — began to rotate, grinding softly as hidden mechanisms unlocked for the first time in decades.

Something inside the pendant was awakening.

And it was waking him with it.

At that moment, a shockwave burst out from the pendant, rippling through the ocean like a silent thunderclap. The freezing water around him warmed instantly, glowing as threads of gold wrapped around his chest, sinking beneath his skin.

Ethan gasped — underwater.

His lungs burned, then expanded, drinking in air where there was none.

His heart seized… then roared to life, beating with a strength that echoed like drums in his skull.

Images slammed into his mind:

A throne hall shrouded in fire.

A man bearing the same crest.

A crying infant spirited away in the night.

A woman — his mother — whispering, “I love you.”

The golden threads fused into his bloodstream, racing along his veins like living fire. His bones vibrated. His muscles tightened, hardened, strengthened.

The ocean no longer crushed him.

His body refused to die.

And then — with a violent shudder — Ethan opened his eyes fully.

His vision pierced the darkness.

His heartbeat steadied.

His limbs obeyed again.

Ethan kicked upward, powerful and sure, cutting through the water with a force he had never possessed. The sea no longer felt like a grave.

It felt like a birthplace.

He wasn’t just alive.

He was reborn.

***

Miles away, deep within the forests beyond the coastline, a circular chamber lit with arcane lanterns trembled.

An alarm rune carved into the floor snapped to life — burning bright gold.

Dozens of hooded figures turned toward it.

A tall woman with silver hair and sharp eyes stepped forward. “That signal… impossible.”

Another man paled. “It can’t be. That crest hasn’t ignited for twenty-four years.”

“Unless the young maste…”

He swallowed.

“Unless the master is alive… which means he’s probably in danger right now!”

The silver-haired woman placed her hand over the glowing sigil, her expression shifting from disbelief to dread.

“Contact the Grand Steward,” she commanded.

“Immediately.”

All around her, the elite watchers known as the Vale Seekers—a hidden order created to protect the ruling bloodline—began rushing into motion.

Maps were brought up online. Coordinates were calculated. Engines roared to life in a hidden hangar beneath a mansion floor.

Within minutes, a small squad of armored operatives sprinted toward a sleek black submersible craft.

Their leader strapped on his breathing gear.

“Rescue the master at all costs,” he said.

“No mistakes.”

As the craft shot out toward the sea, the alarm rune still glowed—steady, unstoppable.

The conglomerate heir is alive!

…

Clara locked the apartment door behind her and pressed her back against it, breathing hard. The silence felt too loud. It followed her like a shadow—just like the last words Ethan ever said as he fell:

“Clara… why…?”

She squeezed her eyes shut. Stop. She couldn’t afford to think. Not now.

She tossed her blood-stained blouse into the sink and scrubbed it under scalding water, watching the dark swirl spiral down the drain. Her hands trembled so badly she had to grip the counter to steady herself.

“Pull yourself together,” she whispered. “No one saw us. No one knows.”

But the apartment felt wrong. Too still. Too accusing. Her gaze darted around as if Ethan himself would step out of the shadows.

Clara grabbed her phone.

She deleted messages. Photos. Call logs. Every trace of him.

Then she opened the hidden folder—screenshots of transfers she’d forced him to make, the documents Granger had forged, the location history that proved she followed him that night.

One by one, she wiped them clean.

Her heart hammered when she reached the last image—Ethan smiling at their daughter’s ultrasound.

She hesitated.

Then deleted it too.

The silence felt heavier.

She opened a bottle of wine with shaking fingers and drank straight from it.

If anyone ever connected her to Ethan’s disappearance…

If anyone found out what she and Granger did…

“No,” she whispered again. “He’s gone. He’s gone.”

But even as she said it, she could swear she heard a heartbeat lingering in the room—steady, slow, and patient. Like someone was secretly watching her.