The Graham Heir—I Am Not An Adopted Nobody

Chapter 4: Homecoming

In less than five minutes, the ultra-modern Graham helicopter tore through the skies like a silver comet and descended toward the most renowned city in the country—the Graham Oasis.

Calling it a city was an understatement.

The Graham Oasis was a living monument to wealth, power, and human imagination pushed beyond its limits. It was beauty and brutality intertwined, creativity molded into steel and glass, futuristic technology breathing alongside ancient authority. The Emmett residence—grand as it was—couldn’t even qualify as an outskirt villa here.

Spanning over 5,000 hectares of land and water, the Oasis functioned as a sovereign world of its own. Floating highways glided over artificial seas. Towering crystal spires pulsed with soft blue energy. Gardens engineered to bloom year-round stretched endlessly, each flower genetically perfected. Autonomous transports moved silently, while security drones patrolled invisibly, scanning everything that breathed.

At the heart of it all stood the Grand Graham Mansion.

A $20 billion structure anchoring a $200 billion private city.

It wasn’t merely a mansion—it was a throne carved into reality. Presidents, foreign leaders, kings, queens, warlords, and unseen rulers all passed through its gates at one time or another, not to negotiate as equals, but to beg for favors and pledge loyalty to the one family that truly ruled the world.

The helicopter descended smoothly onto one of the many helipads. Below, a small fleet of identical aircraft waited like obedient soldiers—tiny compared to the hundreds parked at the city’s private airport alongside dozens of private jets that cost more than small countries.

Robert stepped out.

The wind from the rotors tugged at his torn hoodie and bloodstained jeans, but no one here cared about appearances. Every staff member, every guard, every servant bowed deeply as he walked past.

“Young Master,” the pilot said softly, voice full of reverence. “Welcome home.”

Robert managed a small, tired smile. “It’s good to be back.”

He didn’t stop to enjoy the nostalgia. He had one mission: save his mother. After that… revenge.

He strode through the towering double doors into the Grand Living Hall. Crystal walls reflected endless light. At the far end, his father, Abram Graham, stood surrounded by twelve shadowy figures—the Council of Rulers.

The most powerful people on the planet.

Some wore traditional robes from ancient bloodlines. Others were dressed in modern suits that cost millions. They represented the twelve families who had quietly shaped the world for a thousand years. The Grahams had always led them. And for the next thousand years, they would continue to do so.

Abram’s face lit up the moment he saw his son. “Robert.”

He opened his arms.

Robert walked forward and bowed deeply to the Council, just as tradition demanded.

One of the hooded figures spoke, voice low and ancient. “The heir has returned. Are you ready to take your rightful place, young Graham? To lead where your father has led?”

The room went silent.

Robert felt every eye on him.

Six years ago, he had left. Family tradition required every potential heir to live in exile—no name, no money, no power. Stripped of everything the Grahams had given him, forced to survive on his own for five years. To learn hardship. To learn humility.

Robert’s five years had ended a year ago. His father had called. Again and again. He had refused every time.

Because he had found something real.

A family that loved him without knowing who he was. A life without bowing and scraping. He hadn’t wanted to ruin it by revealing the truth. If Dylan, Rose, and Anna had known he was the heir to the Graham empire… everything would have changed. They would have been forced to worship him. To fear him.

He couldn’t bear that.

But now?

Now there was no choice.

Abram cleared his throat gently. “Son… are you ready? Or do you wish to return to your exile?”

Robert looked at his father. Then at the Council.

“I’m ready.”

A murmur of approval rippled through the twelve.

They stepped forward as one. Hands touched his shoulders. Words in ancient languages were whispered over his head. An invisible weight settled on him—responsibility, power, destiny.

One of them spoke. “The anointing is complete. The ritual of full succession will take place seven nights from tonight. Until then, you and your father must settle the affairs of the Graham family.”

Like smoke, the Council vanished.

The room felt suddenly empty.

Robert turned to his father. “Dad… I don’t have much time. Mom—Rose—she’s dying. The hospital gave me less than an hour.”

Abram smiled softly. “I know, son. I already took care of it.”

Robert blinked. “You… what?”

“I had her airlifted here an hour ago. She’s in the Oasis Medical Wing right now—under the best doctors in the world. The surgery is already underway. She’s going to be fine.”

Robert’s knees almost gave out. Relief crashed over him like a wave. “Thank you… thank you.”

Abram placed a hand on his shoulder. “You’re my son. There’s nothing I wouldn’t do.”

Robert took a shaky breath. “And when this is done… I’m going back. There are people who need to answer for what they did to me. To us.”

Abram’s eyes sparkled with pride. “I was hoping you’d say that.”

He turned to the side. “Matt.”

The family butler—gray-haired, impeccably dressed, and loyal since Robert was a child—stepped forward with a velvet tray.

“Reinstate all of Young Master’s accounts,” Abram ordered. “And bring him his premium cards.”

Matt bowed. “Immediately, sir.”

Within seconds, Matt handed Robert a sleek black folder. Inside were twelve premium cards—each one a status symbol most billionaires could only dream of. The smallest account held $100 billion. Together, they totaled $4 trillion.

The Graham family itself? Worth over $199 trillion.

Abram continued. “I’ll sign the final documents making you the new head of the family on the night of the ritual. But for now, you have seven days. Go back. Take your revenge. Make it hurt. Make them remember.”

Robert nodded slowly. “I will.”

Abram studied him. “You haven’t forgotten your skills, have you? The exile forbade you from using them.”

Robert’s lips curved into a small, dangerous smile. “I haven’t forgotten. And I can’t wait to use them again.”

Because Robert Graham wasn’t just rich.

He was trained.

From childhood, every Graham heir learned two things besides wealth: martial arts and ancient medical arts. By age sixteen, Robert had already mastered both—black belts in multiple disciplines, knowledge of pressure points that could heal or destroy, techniques passed down for centuries.

He wasn’t just coming back with money.

He was coming back armed.

Abram wasn’t finished. “One more thing. I’m placing you in charge of the Bertha Graham Memorial Hotel—the twelve-star property worth $1 trillion. And the Bullion Corporation—$24 trillion in assets.”

Robert frowned. “Why those specifically?”

Abram’s smile was cryptic. “You’ll understand soon enough. Go there tomorrow. Take the reins. Everything will become clear.”

Robert didn’t argue. He never did with his father.

He turned to leave.

“Wait,” Abram said softly.

Robert stopped.

“I’m proud of you, son. For surviving. For coming back. For choosing to protect the people you love.”

Robert swallowed hard. “I’ll be back in time for the ritual.”

Abram nodded. “I know you will.”

Robert walked out to the helipad. The same helicopter waited, rotors already spinning.

He climbed in.

As the aircraft lifted off, he looked down at the glittering city that had once been his entire world.

Then he looked ahead—toward the darkness, toward the people who had laughed at him, beaten him, betrayed him.

Chloe.

Malcom.

The professors.

The Emmetts.

They had no idea what was coming.

Seven days.

Seven days to make them pay.

Seven days to show them that the “adopted bastard” they had thrown away… was the heir to the most powerful family on earth.

The helicopter banked toward the city lights in the distance.

Robert leaned back in the seat, eyes hard.

It was time.