The Heir Behind Bars

The prison gates creaked open as dawn broke over Riverpoint City. Nathan Hayes stepped out with nothing but a duffel bag slung over his shoulder and an old scar running down his wrist like a signature of survival.

The cold wind slapped his face. He breathed it in — the first breath of freedom in five long years. Behind him, a prison guard leaned against the rusting fence, lighting a cigarette.

“Hey, Hayes.” The guard flicked ash at his feet. “Some fancy car’s waiting for you. Pretty lady too. Must be nice to have a fiancée like that, huh?”

Nathan didn’t answer. He adjusted his grip on the bag and kept walking down the cracked pavement. The guard’s laughter faded behind him.

At the bottom of the hill, a sleek white Mercedes idled by the curb. Cassandra Sterling leaned against the hood in a tight beige coat, sunglasses perched on her head like a crown. Her eyes were fixed on Nathan’s battered sneakers as he approached.

She didn’t smile. She didn’t move. When he reached her, Cassandra straightened and gave him a long, cold once-over — the same way she’d once looked at a stray cat outside her father’s mansion.

“You took your time,” she said, flipping her hair over her shoulder. “Five years. You look… worse than I expected.”

Nathan dropped his bag at her feet. His voice was quiet, flat. “You’re early.”

Cassandra ignored that. She opened the back door for him like he was a taxi passenger — not her fiancé. Nathan slid in without a word, the leather seat soft against his bruised back.

The car pulled away from the prison, rolling past farmland and half-finished billboards promising a future he’d never believed in. Cassandra stayed silent for a while, tapping her nails against her phone screen.

Finally, she spoke. “You know, if you keep looking so dead inside, my father will make me cancel the wedding.”

Nathan watched the fields slip by. “Then cancel it.”

Cassandra’s lips curled. “Don’t push me, Nathan. You should be grateful I even came for you. The Hayes family is busy. Liam’s birthday party is tonight.”

Nathan’s knuckles whitened on his knee. He turned his head toward the window, so she wouldn’t see the flicker of rage in his eyes.

Five years ago, he’d been dragged from a cheap rental room by men in black suits, DNA test in hand. Welcome home, real son of the Hayes family, heir to fortunes, power, the old man’s cold approval.

But the seat was already warm. Liam had been there for fifteen years — the perfect son they found when they thought Nathan was lost forever. Handsome. Polished. Obedient. He gave them everything a family like that wanted.

Nathan was just the spare tire, a bargaining chip for an old marriage deal with the Sterling family. And when Liam made a mess, crashed his sports car drunk, killed a man on a rainy road, it was Nathan they handed over to the police.

“Your brother wouldn’t survive prison,” Harry Hayes had said, eyes dry. “But you… you’re used to suffering, aren’t you? Do this for us. For Liam.”

Nathan had done it. And Liam had sent him one letter in five years. A blank sheet of paper inside. Just to remind him who mattered.

Cassandra pulled the car into the city’s high-rise district. Glass towers glinted in the morning sun. Nathan felt the distance between his past and this world in every inch of tinted glass and polished steel.

She parked in front of a café with marble pillars and gold trim. The valet opened her door like she was royalty. Nathan stepped out after her, still carrying his own bag.

Inside, the café buzzed with polite laughter and quiet piano music. Cassandra led him to a table by the window, her heels clicking like gunshots on the tile. A waiter in gloves hovered near, pretending not to stare at Nathan’s prison-issue shoes.

She ordered a latte for herself. She didn’t ask him what he wanted.

“So, what’s your plan now?” Cassandra asked, stirring her drink like she was bored already. “Going to crawl back to the Hayes house and beg your father for forgiveness? Beg Liam to share his room?”

Nathan leaned back, watching the rain start to patter against the glass. “Why did you even come?”

Cassandra’s smile was as cold as the coffee she didn’t touch. “Because it looks good. My father wants the city to know we’re loyal to our word. The engagement stays — for now. But don’t embarrass me, Nathan. If you drag this out, I’ll break it off and marry Liam instead.”

He didn’t flinch. “Go ahead.”

Her eyes narrowed. “You’re jealous of him, aren’t you? I know how you look at him — like he stole your place. Face reality, Nathan: you were nothing before the Hayes family found you.”

Nathan’s jaw ticked. He reached into his pocket, pulled out a thin metal band — the engagement ring they’d forced on him before the trial. He placed it on the table.

“Give it to Liam,” he said.

Cassandra’s face tightened. She snatched the ring, her fingers trembling just enough to make Nathan’s mouth curl in the ghost of a smile.

“You think you’re above this?” she hissed. “You’re just an orphan who got lucky. Without us, you’re nothing.”

He leaned forward, voice steady. “Then marry Liam.”

The slap came so fast the waiter nearly dropped a tray behind them. Cassandra’s palm stung against his cheek. Nathan didn’t move. He let her see that he wouldn’t give her the satisfaction of a reaction.

She grabbed her bag and stood. “Find your own way back, Nathan.”

Outside, rain hit the windows harder. Nathan watched her leave — heels clicking away, head held high like she’d won something. He ran a thumb over the bruise blooming on his cheek, then looked at the door.

Minutes later, as the drizzle turned to a cold downpour, the café door swung open again. The hum of the city outside muffled under the storm.

A black Bentley pulled up to the curb. The back door opened, and a woman stepped out — dark sunglasses, red coat, a quiet power in the way she moved. She walked in, scanning the café until her eyes landed on Nathan.

She didn’t flinch at his ragged clothes. She walked up to his table, her heels silent this time. When she stopped in front of him, she dipped her head just slightly — not a bow, but close.

“Mr. Hayes,” she said softly. “The master is waiting.”

Nathan didn’t move for a moment. Then he stood, picked up his bag, and followed her out into the rain.

Outside, Cassandra’s car was long gone. The Bentley’s door swung open for him. Warm leather seats, a faint scent of expensive perfume, a world apart from the cold iron smell of his prison cell.

As the car pulled away from the curb, Nathan didn’t look back. He pressed a hand to his pocket, where the ring used to be, a reminder of what they’d stolen.

But what they couldn’t steal was his name. A promise that maybe, just maybe, the story wasn’t over yet.

Not for him. And not for the Hayes family.