Chapter Ten
Author: The Ink of D
last update2025-07-17 19:18:45

The Hayes estate’s grand dining hall sparkled with luxury. A long oak table placed in the center of the room, piled high with silver platters and crystal goblets that glinted beneath the golden chandelier lights. It wasn’t just a dinner, it was a display of power.

Around the table sat relatives and business partners, dressed in silk dresses and crisp suits, their laughter bouncing off the marble walls like a well-rehearsed show. Nathan moved through them quietly, an oil-stained rag in hand, wiping up spilled wine from the table’s edge.

Though he was the blood heir, no one treated him like it. That truth stayed heavy on his shoulders. To them, he was just a servant in a faded shirt, a reminder of scandal they wished would disappear. His presence was a joke, and they all seemed in on it but him.

At the head of it all sat Liam, his voice booming over the feast as he raised a toast to the Hayes name. He wasn’t born into the family, but he wore the title of heir like he’d been born wearin
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  • Chapter Ten

    The Hayes estate’s grand dining hall sparkled with luxury. A long oak table placed in the center of the room, piled high with silver platters and crystal goblets that glinted beneath the golden chandelier lights. It wasn’t just a dinner, it was a display of power. Around the table sat relatives and business partners, dressed in silk dresses and crisp suits, their laughter bouncing off the marble walls like a well-rehearsed show. Nathan moved through them quietly, an oil-stained rag in hand, wiping up spilled wine from the table’s edge.Though he was the blood heir, no one treated him like it. That truth stayed heavy on his shoulders. To them, he was just a servant in a faded shirt, a reminder of scandal they wished would disappear. His presence was a joke, and they all seemed in on it but him.At the head of it all sat Liam, his voice booming over the feast as he raised a toast to the Hayes name. He wasn’t born into the family, but he wore the title of heir like he’d been born wearin

  • Charter Nine

    Nathan slipped out of the estate before dawn, he clutched a crumpled flyer for a delivery job. It was honest work, a small chance to stand on his own again. Maybe it could wash off the oil stains and broken glass that still clung to his pride.The city’s underbelly welcomed him in a way the Hayes estate never could. The alleys were littered with trash, the air thick with diesel and grime. But to Nathan, it felt more real,more truthful, than the polished marble halls of the Hayes family. He walked fast, his boots crunching against the frost-covered pavement. Every step pulled him toward something that looked like freedom.The delivery hub was a small, rundown warehouse on the edge of town. Its walls were marked with rust and graffiti, like scars on old skin. Nathan checked in with the boss, a gruff man named Vic, who barely looked at him. A cigarette dangled from Vic’s lip as he handed Nathan a clipboard and muttered, “You start now and don’t screw up.”Nathan nodded. The weight of th

  • Chapter Eight

    The Hayes estate glittered with luxury. The grand ballroom had been turned into a showpiece for Liam’s latest event, a charity auction. Everything sparkled: chandeliers poured down golden light, silk-covered tables lined the floor, and guests in designer clothes sipped champagne worth more than Nathan’s five years in prison. He weaved through the crowd with a tray of drinks, his calloused hands steady despite the memories of hard labor. The vest clung uncomfortably against skin that remembered sweat and grime. He was the true Hayes heir—but to Liam, and everyone else, he was a joke. Just a servant. A convict. Invisible.Liam took center stage, his voice loud and confident as he auctioned off expensive wine and rare cars. Every sale made him look even more like the perfect heir. He wore a sharp tuxedo, his hair styled, and his smile cruel. Nathan kept his head down, trying to go unnoticed, but Liam’s eyes still found him, like a wolf spotting prey.As Nathan passed a group of investo

  • Chapter Seven

    The maid’s room was a tomb, dim and silent stale. Flickering light buzzed above as Cassandra stormed in, her heels snapping sharply against the cracked linoleum. Nathan sat on the cot, his duffel bag open beside him, a worn leather journal balanced on his knee.He looked up slowly. Cassandra stood in the doorway, her cream dress catching the bulb’s dull glow. Her eyes, usually cold, glittered now with something unfamiliar. Fear. It was subtle, buried beneath her usual venom, but there.“You’re plotting something,” she said. Her voice was low. “I see it in your eyes, Nathan. That prison stare. Don’t think you can outsmart us.”Her words echoed their first meeting outside the prison gates, when she’d looked at him like a stray dog she could leash. But now, something had shifted. Her fingers twitched slightly at her sides. A crack in her composure.Nathan closed the journal slowly. His thumb brushed against the scar on his wrist.“You’re the one who looks scared,” he said, calm and stead

  • Chapter Six

    Nathan stumbled back into the maid’s room, the door creaking shut behind him like a prison gate slamming closed. Liam’s lie, that Nathan was a drug dealer, spun just to win favor with the family, burned in his chest. It stung more than any scar on his wrist. The words rang in his ears like a cruel chant: Menace, thief, convict.He sank onto the narrow cot, its springs groaning beneath him, and buried his face in his hands. The betrayal wasn’t new, but now it felt heavier, like a stone lodged in his ribs, making it hard to breathe.He stared up at the ceiling where a noose-shaped stain mocked him in the dim flicker of the overhead bulb. Five years behind bars, carrying the weight of Liam’s crime, and now this. A lie so bold it had rewritten his name in the Hayes family’s records.His fingers twitched, aching to reach for the old journal hidden beneath the bed. Inside were names and debts, fragments of a past street life that used to give him purpose. But he didn’t reach for it. Not ye

  • Chapter Five

    Nathan woke in the maid’s room, sweat damp on his neck. The crumpled job flyer pricked his palm like a thorn.Construction crew needed. No questions asked. Call Joe.The ink had bled onto his thumb overnight — a cheap promise of freedom. A crack in the Hayes estate’s walls, if he was lucky.He sat up, muscles stiff from a cot too small to hold a man like him, He looked up at the ceiling, a stain shaped like a noose above the flickering bulb. He’d spent five years staring at cracks just like it, dreaming of ways to escape.His thumb traced the torn edge of the flyer. A name. A number. A lifeline. The phone felt heavy in his hand as he dialed.“Yeah?” a gravel voice answered.“Joe?” Nathan cleared his throat. “You need men?”A pause. A cough. A drag of smoke through the line. “Who’s askin’?”“Nathan Hayes.” The name tasted wrong — so he spat it out. “Nate.”Silence, then a grunt. “Show up at the East lot. Bring your back, not your mouth.”The line clicked dead.Dawn cracked cold over Ri

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