The Disgraced Heir: A Trillion-Dollar Revenge

Chapter 4

“We would be delighted to welcome you back anytime, sir. No matter how small your concern may seem, you are always welcome at Mavelik Bank.”

Richard Hayes said this as he escorted Adrian Cole out of his office. He remained beside him in the corridor, maintaining the same respectful attitude he had shown since their first conversation.

“Is there anything else we can do for you?” Richard asked. “If you don't mind, I can arrange for one of our drivers to take you wherever you need to go. In fact, you are welcome to use my personal car if that would be more convenient.”

Adrian struggled to find an appropriate response. Richard's generosity was difficult to understand, but he reminded himself that the manager was a professional. People working in an institution like Mavelik Bank were expected to treat important clients with respect, and the mysterious fortune in Adrian's account had probably changed the way Richard viewed him. If that money had never appeared, Adrian doubted the man would have gone out of his way to buy him a tuxedo or offer him a car.

“Thank you, Mr. Hayes, but I'll manage,” Adrian replied. “You've already done more than enough for me.”

Richard nodded, though he still appeared willing to help. Adrian took the opportunity to turn away before the manager could offer him anything else. He appreciated the kindness, but he had reached the point where every new gesture only added to his confusion.

Once he was certain Richard had returned inside, Adrian walked away from the bank. He needed somewhere quiet where he could think without another person addressing him as though he were a wealthy man deserving of special treatment. The tuxedo felt strange against his skin, and the phone in his pocket seemed heavier than it had that morning, even though its weight had not changed.

The conversation with Richard had done little to settle his worries. If anything, it had left him with more questions. The astronomical deposit remained in his account, and the letter claimed that the money was only one-hundredth of his total fortune. Adrian could hardly understand how anyone could possess such wealth, let alone why someone would give it to a man who had spent years being treated as an unwanted member of another family.

Richard's words returned to his mind as he walked.

Come rain or shine, that money isn't going anywhere. You can begin using what rightfully belongs to you.

Adrian slowed his steps and shook his head. The manager had spoken with such confidence that he seemed to have no doubt about the money's ownership. Yet Adrian still couldn't bring himself to accept the explanation.

He had heard stories about people who became rich after mysterious transfers appeared in their bank accounts. In some cases, the money had belonged to wealthy individuals who rewarded someone for a service or arranged a secret inheritance. In others, the recipients had been allowed to keep only a portion of the money after the true owners were identified. Adrian couldn't remember hearing a story in which someone received a fortune of this size and was simply told to spend it without asking questions.

Even the letter offered no name, no explanation, and no way to contact the sender. Whoever had written it claimed to be one of his loyal subjects, as though Adrian were a king whose existence had somehow been hidden from him.

“This feels like a ticking bomb,” he muttered. “I don't want to touch that money and end up in trouble later. What if the people behind it are criminals? What if someone comes looking for it and decides I'm responsible?”

The thought made him uneasy. He had just lost the only person who had protected him inside the Whitmore household. He had no home, no dependable source of income beyond his online writing, and no influential friends who could defend him if something went wrong. Becoming involved in a financial scandal was the last thing he needed.

Then he remembered the letter again.

Adrian had always possessed an unusually sharp memory. Once he read something, he could often recall the words and details long afterward, which was one of the qualities that had impressed his grandfather when they first met. He had never forgotten a conversation, a page from a book, or even a small detail that other people overlooked. Rumor within the Whitmore household had it that this remarkable memory was one of the reasons his grandfather had insisted on bringing him home.

The thought drew Adrian back to the question he had carried for most of his life.

He had never been born into the Whitmore family, yet decades earlier, his grandfather had returned from a business trip with a young Adrian and declared that the boy would become a member of the household. No one had been given a clear explanation. Eleanor had never accepted him, and the other children had grown up treating him as an outsider. Adrian himself had never learned the truth about his biological parents or where he had come from.

Ever since his grandfather had brought him into the Whitmore household decades ago, Adrian Cole had been treated like a piece of unwanted rubbish by Eleanor Whitmore. She had never accepted him as a member of the family and had spent years looking for opportunities to remind him of his place. However, Eleanor was careful enough to hide the worst of her behavior whenever Adrian's grandfather was around. The old man had made it clear that Adrian was under his protection, and Eleanor knew better than to challenge him openly.

Things had been different when Eleanor gave birth to her only daughter, Isabella. Adrian's grandfather had been overjoyed, believing that the girl might one day become Adrian's wife. As the two children grew older, Adrian developed genuine feelings for Isabella, and she appeared to return them. For years, their relationship had given him hope that he might eventually have a family of his own, one in which he wouldn't have to beg for acceptance.

That hope had begun to fade only recently, after Isabella returned from college. The girl who had once sought his company now treated him with coldness, avoided private conversations, and seemed embarrassed whenever they were seen together. Adrian had struggled to understand the sudden change, but he had convinced himself that Eleanor had poisoned her mind against him. He didn't want to believe that Isabella, the one person he had hoped would stand beside him, had willingly decided to turn her back on him.

As he walked through the city, those memories followed him until a thought suddenly occurred to him.

“I know what to do,” he murmured, stopping beside the pavement. “Before I go to Charles, there are one or two things I need to take care of. Maybe I can still change her mind.”

Adrian was a practical man, and he understood how the world worked. People often treated someone differently when they believed that person was wealthy, influential, or connected to powerful individuals. He had watched the Whitmore family bow to business associates they secretly despised simply because those people could offer them something valuable. Nevertheless, he hated the idea of looking down on others just because circumstances had made him more important in their eyes.

If the money in his account truly belonged to him, he could use some of it to show Isabella that he was capable of standing on his own feet. Perhaps she would finally stop seeing him as a burden. He knew it was a foolish hope, especially after the way she had avoided him at the funeral and remained silent while he was thrown out of the mansion, but he wasn't ready to give up on her without trying once more.

“It won't hurt anyone if I take out a few thousand dollars,” he reasoned. “I'll be careful, and if there's a problem, I'll deal with it.”

He pulled out his battered iPhone 6s and opened the recording he had saved during his conversation with Richard Hayes. The manager's voice came through the speaker, assuring him that the money was his to use and that he shouldn't worry about it being taken away.

Adrian listened carefully, then replayed the relevant section to make sure he had preserved the manager's words.

“If anything goes wrong with this money, I'll have proof that the bank manager himself told me I could use it,” he said. “He can't pretend he never said those things.”

He paused, considering the possibilities. If the money turned out to be part of some elaborate mistake, perhaps he could at least argue that he had acted in good faith. If it truly belonged to him, then there would be no reason to keep living as though he were still the poorest person in the Whitmore household.

“Besides, if someone gives me a fortune and later decides to take it back, surely there must be some compensation for all this trouble,” he muttered. “Wait a minute. What did Richard call that number?”

He scrolled through the recording until he found the part where the manager explained the extraordinary figure.

“A quintillion,” Adrian repeated, his eyes widening. “One quintillion dollars? Does that number even make sense?”

He stared at his phone, then looked up at a well-dressed woman passing by. For a brief moment, his imagination ran wild.

“If that money really belongs to me, I'll be the richest man who has ever lived. Not just in Grimmings Hills, but probably anywhere on earth. Can you imagine that?”

A laugh escaped him, but he quickly brought himself back to reality. He still had no idea who had sent the money, and he couldn't allow himself to forget that his entire future might depend on understanding the truth. Even so, he had decided to make one purchase and see what happened.

He stepped toward the road and hailed a taxi.

“Vaïlen Squares, please.”

The driver nodded and pulled into traffic. After a short journey, the taxi arrived at Vaïlen Squares, one of the most exclusive shopping districts in Grimmings Hills. Adrian paid the fare, stepped out, and looked up at the impressive jewelry store in front of him. Vaïlen was among the city's ten most prestigious jewelry houses, known for serving wealthy families, celebrities, and business leaders whose purchases often attracted public attention.

He reached into his pocket and examined the black diamond card Richard had given him for shopping. The card looked expensive enough to belong to a billionaire, but Adrian still couldn't shake the fear that it might be useless.

“What if it doesn't work?” he wondered.

He considered turning around, but then he remembered the countless times Eleanor had humiliated him. He had been insulted in front of guests, treated like a servant in the home where he had grown up, and thrown into the rain without being allowed to collect his belongings properly. Compared with those experiences, being turned away from a jewelry store would hardly be the worst thing that had happened to him.

“The worst they can do is throw me out,” he told himself. “I've survived worse.”

With that thought, Adrian entered the store.

A young saleswoman approached him almost immediately. Her expression brightened when she saw his tuxedo, and she welcomed him with a polished smile.

“Welcome to Vaïlen, sir. How may I help you today? Are you looking for something special for your beautiful wife?”

Adrian gave her an amused look.

“How do you know my wife is beautiful?”

The saleswoman laughed lightly. “A handsome gentleman like you is bound to have a beautiful woman by his side.”

Her compliment caught him off guard. He had grown so accustomed to being mocked that he wasn't entirely sure how to respond to ordinary flattery. Still, he knew he hadn't come there to exchange pleasantries, and he didn't want to waste more time than necessary.

“Show me the most expensive piece you have,” he said. “I want the Diana Jadeite necklace—the one displayed at Grimmings Entertainment Hall throughout the night.”

The woman's smile faltered.

“I'm sorry, sir. Please don't take this as disrespect, but that necklace has been reserved for the wife of the owner of Astrock Villa. It's an exceptionally rare piece, and we would need special authorization before—”

“How much is she paying for it?” Adrian interrupted.

The saleswoman stared at him, apparently unsure whether he was serious. His clothes were elegant, but even the wives of some of the city's most respected chief executives would struggle to purchase a necklace of that value. The Diana Jadeite wasn't an ordinary luxury item. It was a symbol of status, and its price placed it beyond the reach of nearly everyone who entered the store.

“Fifteen million dollars, sir,” she finally answered.

Adrian felt his heart pound against his chest.

Fifteen million dollars.

Before that day, the largest amount of money he had ever been able to count as his own was fifty thousand dollars. Now, he was standing inside a jewelry store, considering a necklace that cost three hundred times that amount.

He swallowed, trying not to let his surprise show.

“I'll pay double.”

The words came out before he had fully considered them. The saleswoman's eyes widened, and for a moment she simply stared at him.

“I'm sorry, sir. Did you say you would pay double?”

“You heard me.” Adrian handed her the black diamond card. “Here. Use this.”

Inside, he was praying harder than he had ever prayed in his life.

God, please let this work. Please don't let me embarrass myself in front of everyone.

The saleswoman accepted the card and took it to the payment terminal. Adrian stood still, watching her movements as though his entire future depended on the result. A few seconds later, the terminal confirmed the transaction.

“It's successful, sir,” she said, her expression transforming into a broad smile. “We'll prepare your purchase immediately.”

Adrian stared at her.

It worked.

The realization hit him so hard that he nearly forgot to breathe. He had just spent thirty million dollars—or at least, he had authorized a purchase worth that amount—and the card had gone through without a problem. He wanted to celebrate, but the thought of what he had done also frightened him. If the fortune wasn't really his, he might have just made a terrible mistake.

He pushed the worry aside for the moment. There was no point in panicking before he knew whether anything would happen.

“Thank you for shopping with us, sir,” the saleswoman said when the necklace had been securely packaged. “Your purchase qualifies you for our exclusive all-night pool party this evening. You have exceeded our ten-million-dollar single-purchase requirement by a considerable margin, and your transaction also qualifies you for our highest customer tier. You are more than welcome to attend.”

She offered him an invitation card.

Adrian barely glanced at it. He had no intention of attending a party. He had come for one reason, and he was eager to carry out the plan that had brought him there.

He collected the package and hurried out of the store, hailing another taxi as soon as he reached the road.

“Whitmore Mansion,” he told the driver.

The words felt strange coming from his mouth. Only a few hours earlier, he had been dragged out of that mansion and warned never to return. He knew he was taking a risk by going back, but he had convinced himself that the necklace might be enough to make Isabella reconsider their relationship.

When the taxi finally arrived, Adrian stepped out and looked toward the imposing gates of the Whitmore estate. The mansion stood behind its tall walls, surrounded by the same thick woodland that had made him feel so helpless when he was thrown into the rain.

He took a deep breath.

“What am I doing here again?” he muttered to himself. “Have I completely lost my mind?”

He knew better than to approach the main gate. The guards had already made their position clear, and he had no desire to be dragged through the mud a second time. Instead, he walked along the perimeter wall until he reached a concealed entrance known only to him and Isabella.

Years earlier, when Eleanor had repeatedly tried to throw him out of the mansion, Isabella had found ways to help him return to their private quarters on the estate. She had shown him that hidden entrance herself, laughing as she explained that it would allow them to spend time together without her mother's interference. Back then, she had seemed determined to stand by him, no matter how much Eleanor disapproved of their relationship.

Remembering those days strengthened Adrian's resolve. He couldn't understand how someone who had once cared for him so deeply could become so cold in such a short time. Perhaps he was wrong about Eleanor's influence. Perhaps Isabella had reasons of her own. Whatever the truth was, he wanted to hear it from her rather than continue guessing.

He slipped through the concealed entrance and made his way toward the apartment where they had once spent so much time together. After checking that no one was nearby, he carefully pushed the door open and stepped inside.

“Isabella?” he called softly.

There was no answer.

Adrian moved through the living room, holding the package securely in one hand. He tried to remain quiet, hoping to surprise her with the gift before explaining why he had returned. As he approached the bedroom they had once shared, however, he heard strange noises coming from inside.

He stopped.

For a moment, he couldn't bring himself to move. His mind searched for an innocent explanation, but the sounds continued, and a growing sense of dread settled over him. He swallowed hard, then slowly pushed the bedroom door open.

The sight that greeted him destroyed every hope he had carried into the mansion.

A man was between Isabella's thighs, and the two of them were clearly engaged in an intimate act.

“Isabella!”

Her name was the only word Adrian could manage.

Isabella stopped moaning and turned toward the doorway. The moment she recognized him, her eyes widened in shock. She immediately pushed the man away and climbed off the bed, scrambling to her feet.

Adrian stood frozen, unable to understand what he was seeing. The necklace package hung from his hand, suddenly feeling ridiculous. He had come back believing that a costly gift might repair their relationship, never imagining that he would find her with another man in the very room they had once shared.

Isabella hurried toward him. For one brief moment, he thought she might try to explain herself.

Instead, she reached the doorway and slammed the door directly in his face.