The Graham Heir—I Am Not An Adopted Nobody

Chapter 8: The Line Crossed

The private elevator ride back up to the penthouse felt longer than it should have. Robert stepped out first, the soft chime announcing his arrival like a quiet promise. Anna was already awake, bouncing between the suite’s endless toys—the massive home theater, the zero-gravity massage chairs, the private indoor waterfall that changed colors with a voice command. She spun around when she heard the doors, eyes bright.

“Robert! Where’ve you been? I woke up and you were gone. I’ve been exploring everything. Did you know the bathtub has a built-in star projector? I felt like I was floating in space!”

Robert smiled—small, real, the kind he hadn’t used in years. “I had a quick meeting downstairs. Everything okay?”

“More than okay!” She threw her arms wide. “This place is insane. I still can’t believe it.”

“Good. Now get ready. We’re going somewhere special.”

Anna tilted her head. “Where?”

“You’ll see when we get there.”

She didn’t argue. She disappeared into the walk-in closet bigger than their old apartment, emerging twenty minutes later in a simple white dress she’d ordered last night, hair pulled into a neat ponytail. She looked like a normal girl again—not the scared kid who’d hidden behind a bed from a landlord.

Robert led her out, but not through the main lobby. He took a side corridor marked “Private Access Only.” Every staff member they passed bowed deeply—silent, respectful, eyes lowered. Guards snapped to attention and saluted. Anna kept glancing up at Robert, confusion and excitement mixing on her face.

“Why is everyone… doing that?” she whispered.

Robert just squeezed her hand. “You’ll understand soon.”

The corridor opened into a private underground garage.

Anna stopped breathing for a second.

Fifty cars—maybe more—lined up under perfect LED lighting. Each one gleamed like a museum piece. Lamborghinis, Bugattis, Paganis, Koenigseggs. The least expensive vehicle in the lineup cost twenty million dollars. The total value? Billions. Easy.

Anna’s mouth fell open. “Robert… is this…?”

“Pick any one you want. We’re driving it today.”

She laughed nervously. “You’re joking.”

He wasn’t.

She walked slowly down the row, fingers trailing over polished hoods. When she reached the Ferrari SF90 Stradale—matte black with blood-red accents, one-of-a-kind, worth $100 million—she stopped.

“This one,” she said, half expecting him to laugh.

Robert nodded to the valet standing nearby.

The man walked to an ultra-modern key vault—biometric locks, laser grids—and retrieved the key fob. He handed it to Robert with both hands.

Robert pressed the button.

Headlights flared. Doors rose like wings.

Anna squealed and ran forward, sliding into the passenger seat before Robert could even open the driver’s door. He climbed in after her, the engine waking with a deep, hungry growl.

They pulled out smoothly, tires whispering over the polished concrete.

Anna was already filming on the new phone she’d ordered last night—a nine-only ultra-limited gold-edition iPhone 19 Pro Ultra, $2 million. She panned across the dashboard, giggling. “Guys, you’re never going to believe this…”

Robert drove them through the hotel’s private exit, then eased onto the main road. As they cruised past the front entrance, Anna suddenly paused her video and pointed.

“Look!”

Edward, Jane, Malcom, Chloe, and the rest of the group stood near the valet stand, waiting for their own cars. They all turned as the Ferrari rolled by.

Robert revved the engine—just once, hard.

The V8 roared like thunder.

The group jumped, then stared in awe.

“Whoever owns that thing is living the dream,” Malcom said, eyes wide.

Chloe laughed. “I need to meet that person.”

Anna burst out laughing in the passenger seat. “If only they knew!”

Robert kept his eyes forward, a tiny smirk tugging at his mouth. The tinted windows were opaque from the outside—black mirrors reflecting their own stunned faces back at them.

They cruised the city for a while—windows down, wind in their hair, Anna filming everything. For once, neither of them felt hunted. They felt… free.

Eventually, Robert turned onto a long, tree-lined boulevard that led to the gates of Graham Scholars Academy.

The school rose ahead like a fortress of marble and glass—private helipads, manicured gardens that looked painted, buildings that cost more than most universities. Tuition started at $25 million a year. Only the children of billionaires, royalty, and world leaders walked these halls.

Anna’s excitement turned to wide-eyed wonder. “This… this is Graham Scholars Academy?”

Robert parked in the VIP lot—reserved for heads of state and the ultra-elite—and killed the engine. “Welcome to your new school.”

They walked toward the administrative building, Anna clutching his hand.

At the reception desk sat a pretty woman in a crisp blazer. She looked up, smiled politely—then the smile vanished when she took in their casual clothes.

“Can I help you?” she asked, already suspicious.

“We’re here to see the director,” Robert said calmly. “We’re enrolling my sister.”

The woman laughed—short, sharp. “This isn’t a public school, sweetheart. Or a charity. Take your sister and leave before I call security.”

Anna stepped forward. “You should be careful how you talk to us. You don’t know who we are.”

The receptionist raised an eyebrow. “And who are you, little girl?”

“Anna Emmett.”

The woman’s smirk faltered. She typed the name into her tablet, then pulled up a video. She turned the screen toward them.

It was months old—grainy but clear. Morris Emmett standing at a press conference, flanked by Edward and Jane. His voice rang out: “After thorough investigation, we have confirmed that Dylan Emmett’s family was involved in his tragic death, which ultimately led to our father’s passing. Effective immediately, Rose, Anna, and the adopted bastard Robert are no longer members of the Emmett family.”

The video looped the part where Morris called Robert “the adopted bastard” who brought ruin to the family.

Anna’s shoulders slumped. She’d seen it before. They both had. It had been played on repeat to mock them for months.

The receptionist shut off the screen. “So. You’re the ones everyone’s talking about. Still think you belong here?”

Robert opened his mouth to speak.

A new voice cut in—smooth, confident, a little amused.

“Do your job and stop taunting people.”

They all turned.

Avery Darby stood there—tall, stunning, dark hair cascading over her shoulders. She was wearing the school’s signature blazer over a silk top, but she carried herself like she owned the building. Campus Queen for three years running. Prof. Darby’s daughter. Billionaire heiress. And one of the most followed young women in the country—fourth place on the social media charts, with a self-made brand worth billions on top of her inheritance.

The receptionist bowed instantly. “Miss Darby—”

Avery ignored her, walking straight to Robert and Anna. “Apologize to them. Now.”

The woman hesitated.

Avery’s voice dropped. “Do it, or I’ll make sure you lose this job before lunch.”

The receptionist swallowed. “I… I’m sorry. I didn’t mean—”

Another voice interrupted—older, colder.

“Who let the trash into the house?”

Professor Darby stepped into the reception area.

Everyone bowed—staff, students, even Avery dipped her head slightly, though her eyes stayed hard.

Prof. Darby walked forward, calm as a king. He was more than just a lecturer now; rumors said the president had him on the shortlist for Secretary of Education. Power clung to him like expensive cologne.

He looked at Robert and Anna like they were stains on the carpet. “Send them out. Immediately.”

Avery stepped between them. “Dad, stop. They’ve been through enough. Robert and Anna deserve a break.”

Professor Darby’s eyes narrowed. “Trash is trash. Robert is an adopted bastard. His existence caused Dylan’s death. And now, you expect me to allow his peace? Impossible.”

She didn’t back down. “What do you mean by ‘trash’? Robert’s been through hell these past two years. And Anna—she’s Dylan’s daughter. Your friend’s daughter.”

Prof. Darby’s mouth twisted. “Dylan’s mistake cost him everything. Adopting that bastard ruined him. And who knows? Maybe Anna isn’t even his. If he adopted one child to have a son, what’s to say he didn’t adopt another to have a daughter?”

Anna’s eyes filled with tears. “You’re lying!”

The professor turned on her. “Shut your mouth, girl. You know nothing.”

Robert’s hands clenched at his sides. He could take the insults—had taken them for years. He’d almost started to believe them himself. But hearing someone question Anna’s blood? Her place in the world?

No.

Something hot and dangerous uncoiled inside him.

Avery’s face flushed with anger. “You’re being a bully, Dad. And you’re old enough to know better.”

She turned to Robert and Anna, voice softening. “I’m sorry. Both of you. He’s wrong.”

Robert met her eyes—steady, quiet.

Avery took a breath. “Let me make it up to you. Come with me tonight—as my date—to the Emmetts’ event. The big contract signing at BGMH. Be my plus-one.”

Anna looked up at Robert, eyes wide.