The Heir They Humiliated

CHAPTER 5

 

The transition was anything but gradual. My grandfather had been relentless, pushing me to absorb decades of corporate strategy and family legacy within a blistering two-week window. I finally understood his haste. Half a month after the night that shattered my old life, I stood in the private gardens once again. But I wasn't there to mourn my parents. There was a fresh grave, the earth still dark and unsettled.

The last of the Van Alens was gone. Though our time had been short, the fierce, protective care he’d shown me had given me something I’d never known: a sense of belonging. He had spent his final breaths forging me into a weapon.

This was my dynasty now. The consortium, the influence, the sheer, terrifying weight of the Van Alen name belonged to me. Yet, as I stared at his headstone, a hollow ache settled in my chest. His final words echoed in the silence of the garden, a mantra for the man I had to become.

"Carter, the world has been cruel to you, so now you must be cruel to it. Seize opportunities by the throat. When you make a move, do it ruthlessly, without hesitation, regardless of who is crushed in your wake. Everyone here is loyal to your blood. Adolph will never leave you, and neither will the others. The world is yours, but you haven't learned enough. You never will. Keep learning... and never forget the fire flowing in your veins."

I closed my eyes and tilted my head back, drawing in a jagged breath. I felt a strange tether to the three people beneath this soil—the parents I’d never known and the grandfather who had saved me from the gutter. I was alone again, a lonely orphan in a billion-dollar suit, but I didn't shed a tear. The sovereign of a global empire couldn't afford the luxury of grief. I had to be as impenetrable as bone-steel.

A soft, steady hand touched my shoulder. I didn't need to look to know it was Helen. She was Adolph’s granddaughter, and just as her grandfather had served mine, she had stepped into the role of my personal assistant.

The moment I’d met her, I’d been struck by her sharp intelligence and metallic, unwavering focus. She was beautiful, yes, but it was her quick wit and mastery of the consortium’s inner workings that made her indispensable. We had bonded instantly; she was the bridge between my old life as a failure and my new life as a titan.

"Mr. Van Alen, we have to leave," she said, her voice soft but firm.

"Already?" I asked, keeping my eyes closed for one last moment of peace.

"The board meeting is scheduled in five hours. The drive back to Kingston will take three, and you need time to prepare. You have to set the tone, sir."

Kingston. The same city that had chewed me up and spat me out into the rain. I was going back to the place where I had been a "parasite" and a "nobody." But I was returning as a god.

"Alright, Helen," I said, finally opening my eyes. "Let’s go."

Helen had become my shadow, educating me on every branch and subsidiary of the Van Alen empire. I suspected she had been studying these books since she was a child, waiting for the heir to return. I was glad the first branch I chose to visit was the Kingston headquarters. Deep in the back of my mind, a cold cloak of revenge was already beginning to unfurl.

In Kingston, the Van Alen office was more than just a branch; it was the apex predator of the local economy. A fleet of black SUVs was parked in the driveway of the estate, engines humming, waiting for the last surviving Van Alen to take his seat. The sun beat down on me, a stark contrast to the rain that had battered me the night I was fired. I took it as an omen. The sun was shining on my future, which meant it was about to burn everyone who had done me wrong.

Meanwhile, in the heart of Kingston, the atmosphere at the regional headquarters was thick with anxiety. Julian—my former boss—was pacing the conference room. He was there representing his firm, desperate to secure a contract that would save his company from a recent dip in profits. He was surrounded by representatives from other firms, all vying for a scrap of the Van Alen fortune.

Suddenly, a voice boomed through the building’s intercom system, startling everyone in the seven-story tower.

"All staff and visitors are to move to the lobby immediately! Clear the halls for the Chairman’s arrival!"

The negotiations were instantly abandoned. Julian looked on with annoyance as the shareholders he’d been courting scrambled toward the elevators. "What is this? How can they just walk out on a million-dollar deal?" he muttered, his curiosity eventually getting the better of his ego.

He followed the crowd to the ground floor, where hundreds of employees had spilled out onto the sidewalk, buzzing with frantic energy.

"Who is the new Van Alen?" someone whispered. "I thought the line ended with the old man."

"Did you see the news about the burial? It was private, but the security was insane."

Finally, the convoy appeared. Six SUVs and a single, pristine limousine came to a synchronized stop in front of the glass doors. Total silence fell over the crowd. A guard in a crisp suit stepped forward and opened the rear door.

I emerged slowly, adjusting the cuffs of my bespoke jacket. Helen stepped out beside me, her tablet in hand. Disbelieving gasps rippled through the crowd as they realized how young the new Chairman was.

"Damn, he looks like a movie star," a secretary whispered.

I walked with a deliberate, powerful stride, my gaze hidden behind dark sunglasses. I felt the weight of their stares, the awe and the fear. Julian was standing near the front of the pack, squinting hard at me as I approached the entrance.

"He looks familiar," Julian muttered to himself, racking his brain. It was impossible for him to bridge the gap between the "pauper" he’d fired and the titan standing before him. I looked vastly different—healthier, sharper, and radiating an aura of untouchable wealth.

He shrugged, his disappointment at the delayed meeting overriding his intuition. He had no idea that the "parasite" he’d mocked was now the man who held his entire career in the palm of his hand.