The Forgotten Heir

Chapter 4

Micheal walked without any particular destination in mind, allowing his feet to carry him wherever they wanted while his mind remained occupied by everything that had happened that night. He had been walking for more than an hour by the time the exhaustion from the fight, the emotional pain of losing Mia, and the hours he had spent at the police station finally caught up with him. His body felt heavy, his cheeks were still slightly swollen from the slaps Mia had given him, and his mind was so tired that he no longer cared where he was going. When he finally looked around, he realized that he had wandered into a quiet public park that was almost completely empty at this hour. He checked the time on his phone and saw that it was already past midnight before walking over to one of the benches and sitting down. He leaned back and closed his eyes, hoping that the silence would help him forget everything that had happened.

Unfortunately, closing his eyes only made the memories come back more clearly. 

 Micheal slowly opened his eyes and stared ahead. He had never really hated being poor before because poverty was all he had known since childhood. He had grown up without knowing who his parents were, and the old woman who raised him had never been wealthy either, yet she had done everything she could to make sure he had food, clothes and a place to sleep. After she died, Micheal had learned to depend entirely on himself, and although life had been difficult, he had never complained about it. He had always believed that if he worked hard enough, he would eventually build a better life. But tonight was different. For the first time, Micheal truly wished he had money. If he were wealthy, David would never have dared to look down on him, the security guards would not have immediately treated him like the criminal simply because David belonged to a powerful family, and perhaps Mia would not have chosen another man simply because he could give her the lifestyle she wanted.

He let out a long sigh and shook his head at himself. What was he even thinking? Becoming rich overnight was nothing more than a fantasy. He had no wealthy parents waiting for him, no powerful relatives and no inheritance that could suddenly change his life. He was just Micheal Jordan, a poor university student who had to work several part-time jobs to pay his tuition and survive. Compared to people like David Hwarthorne, he had almost nothing, and tonight had made that difference painfully clear.

Micheal leaned back against the bench and looked toward the sky, trying to clear his mind. He didn't want to think about Mia anymore. He only wanted to sit there for a while before returning to the dormitory and facing another day at Quinton University. He had just begun to lose himself in his thoughts when his phone suddenly rang.

Micheal lowered his gaze to the screen and saw an unfamiliar number. He frowned slightly but decided not to answer. It was probably a wrong number. The ringing eventually stopped, and Micheal placed the phone back into his pocket. He had barely returned his attention to the sky when the phone started ringing again.

This time, he ignored it as well.

The caller stopped after several rings, but instead of giving up, they called again a few moments later. Micheal became increasingly irritated as the same unfamiliar number continued appearing on his screen. He ignored the call.

When the phone rang for the fifth time, Micheal finally lost his patience. He grabbed it and answered the call without bothering to hide his irritation.

"Hello? Do you have any idea what time it is? I've ignored your calls four times already. Don't you know how to take a hint?"

There was a brief silence from the other end, and Micheal frowned when the caller didn't immediately respond. He was about to hang up when a deep voice finally came through the phone.

"Is this Micheal Jordan?"

"Yes, this is Micheal Jordan, and I swear to God, if you don't have a good reason for calling me fourteen times at this hour, I'm going to find you and beat you up!"

Micheal's voice was filled with anger as he spoke into the phone. He had spent the entire night being humiliated, betrayed and treated like he was worthless, and the persistent caller had finally given him somewhere to direct all the frustration he had been holding inside. He didn't even care who was on the other end of the phone anymore. After everything that had happened, the last thing he needed was a stranger repeatedly disturbing him in the middle of the night.

There was a brief silence before the caller finally spoke.

"Pardon my impudence, Young Master Jordan. I sincerely apologize."

Micheal's eyebrows immediately knitted together.

The anger on his face was replaced by confusion.

"Young Master Jordan?"

He looked at his phone as though the device itself had suddenly become strange.

"Yes, Young Master Jordan. Please forgive me for disturbing you at this hour. There is something very important I need to discuss with you, but it is not something I can explain over the phone. If you would be willing, please tell me where you are. I will send someone to pick you up immediately."

Micheal didn't answer.

He sat quietly on the bench, staring into the darkness as suspicion slowly filled his mind. Who exactly was this person, and why was he calling him Young Master Jordan? More importantly, how could he possibly know his name?

Micheal had spent eighteen years believing that he was an orphan. Nobody had ever called him "Young Master" in his entire life.

It made no sense.

"How do I know you're not trying to kidnap me?" Micheal finally asked.

The caller remained silent for a moment.

Micheal couldn't help laughing at his own question.

A kidnapper?

Who would want to kidnap him?

Kidnappers usually went after people who were worth something. They looked for wealthy businessmen, children from powerful families or people whose families could afford to pay a large ransom.

What could anyone possibly gain from kidnapping Micheal Jordan?

He didn't even have enough money in his account to pay for another meal at the Bell Crest Hotel.

"If you're really a kidnapper," Micheal muttered, "you're probably going to be disappointed."

He had almost nothing.

There was nothing valuable left to take from him.

After thinking about it for a few seconds, Micheal finally gave the caller the location of the park.

He didn't completely trust the man, but at the same time, he had nothing better to do. He had no reason to believe that someone would go through the trouble of calling him fourteen times just to play a meaningless prank.

"Alright, Young Master Jordan," the caller said respectfully. "I'll have someone arrive as soon as possible. Please stay where you are and don't leave."

Micheal closed his eyes and rested his head against the bench, trying to push the strange phone call out of his mind. Whether the caller had been serious or just playing a prank no longer mattered. He was too tired to worry about it. Once his mind was clear, he would leave the park and return to his dormitory. He might be poor, but he still had a place to sleep, and he had no intention of spending the night on a park bench looking like a homeless man.

About thirty minutes passed before Micheal heard the sound of a vehicle approaching. He opened his eyes and looked toward the park entrance, expecting an ordinary car. The moment the vehicle came into view, he sat upright in shock.

A white-and-gold luxury car slowly entered the park and stopped a few feet from the bench where Micheal sat.

Micheal stared at it. Even though he was poor, he knew expensive cars. Quinton University was full of wealthy students, and he had seen enough luxury vehicles on campus to know this one was far beyond anything he could ever afford. Its design alone made it stand out, and the polished body reflected the faint light from the street lamps.

Micheal’s heart began beating faster.

The passenger door opened, and a middle-aged man stepped out.

He appeared to be in his late forties. Everything about him gave the impression of someone from a completely different world. He wore a perfectly tailored white three-piece suit, and expensive jewelry shone on his wrists and fingers. His dark hair was neatly styled, with streaks of white at the temples that made him look even more imposing.

The man closed the car door, looked around the park, and finally settled his eyes on Micheal.

Micheal’s stomach tightened.

Why would someone like this come looking for him?

The question immediately made him think of David.

A terrible thought crossed his mind.

Could this man be David Hwarthorne’s father?

Micheal’s face turned pale.

It made sense. David had been humiliated in front of hundreds of students tonight. The entire university had watched Micheal knock him to the ground. If David had already told his family, there was no reason for someone as powerful as his father to let the matter go.

Micheal remembered the police station. He had barely been able to pay the $5,000 for his release, and only because Benson, Marcus, and Greg had emptied their pockets to help him.

What would happen if David’s father decided to push the matter further?

Micheal’s university education could be ruined. He had worked too hard to get into Quinton University. He had spent years struggling for the chance to study at the country’s top school. Everything he had sacrificed would become meaningless if he were expelled or ended up with a criminal record.

The middle-aged man began walking toward him.

With every step, Micheal’s anxiety grew. He did not know how much power David’s family had, but from the man’s appearance and the car he arrived in, it was clear he was not someone Micheal could afford to offend.

By the time the man was only a few steps away, Micheal had already made his decision.

He quickly stood up, walked toward the man, and, without giving himself time to think, dropped to his knees.

The middle-aged man’s footsteps stopped.

Micheal lowered his head.

“Mr. Hwarthorne, please forgive me!”

His voice trembled.

“I know I was wrong. I shouldn’t have hit David. I was angry and lost control, but I didn’t mean to cause serious trouble. Please, I’m begging you, give me another chance.”

The man stared at Micheal in complete confusion.

Micheal continued before the man could speak.

“I know you’re angry because of what happened to your son, and I understand. If you want me to apologize to David, I’ll do it. I’ll apologize to him in front of everyone at the university if that’s what you want.”

"Mr. Hwarthorne?"

The middle-aged man stared at Micheal in confusion, clearly having no idea why the young man had suddenly dropped to his knees in front of him. However, the moment he realized that Micheal was actually kneeling on the ground, his expression changed. Without caring about the expensive white suit he was wearing or the dirt that might stain it, the man immediately bent down and helped Micheal back onto his feet.

"Young Master Jordan, what are you doing?" he asked, his voice carrying a mixture of shock and agitation. "Are you trying to get me killed?"

Micheal stared at him blankly.

He had even been prepared to beg for mercy if this man truly was David Hwarthorne’s father.

Instead, the man looked at him as though Micheal had just done something unimaginable.

Micheal slowly pulled his arm away from the man’s grip.

“Young Master… Jordan?”

The middle-aged man’s expression froze when he heard the uncertainty in Micheal’s voice.

For a moment he simply stared.

Then his eyes began to redden, and a faint glimmer of tears appeared at the corners.

“Young Master Micheal?”

Micheal’s heart skipped a beat.

Nobody had ever called him that before.

The old woman who raised him had always called him Micheal. His professors called him Micheal Jordan. His dorm mates called him Micheal. Even Mia had never called him anything more than Micheal.

But this stranger stood in front of him with tears in his eyes, calling him Young Master Michael as though the title belonged to him.

Micheal swallowed.

“Who are you?”

The man’s lips trembled slightly as he looked at Micheal’s face. He seemed to be comparing the young man standing in front of him with a memory he had carried for years.

Then he nodded slowly.

“That’s right, Young Master Jordan. It’s really you.”

His voice became unsteady.

“I’ve finally found you.”