The Heir They Underestimated

CHAPTER 5

Alex took the phone from the manager's hand.

The crowd watched, phones recording, waiting.

"Is there somewhere private?" Alex asked quietly.

The manager nodded. "This way, sir."

Derek stepped forward. "Hold on. You can take the call right here. We're all dying to know who's so desperate to reach you."

Alex ignored him. Followed the manager toward a side door.

"Probably his mother," Brittany said loudly. "Asking why he hasn't called."

More laughter.

The manager led Alex down a hallway lined with oil paintings. The music and laughter faded behind them.

They reached a small office. Mahogany desk. Leather chairs. A window overlooking the city.

"Take your time, sir," the manager said. Then he stepped out and closed the door.

Alex stood alone. He looked at the phone in his hand. The screen showed an active call. No caller ID.

He raised it to his ear. "Hello."

A voice responded. Deep. Weathered. Familiar in a way that made Alex's chest tighten.

He listened. His expression didn't change.

"I understand," he said finally.

More words from the other end. Alex's jaw tightened slightly.

"No. Not yet."

A pause.

"I know what I'm doing."

The conversation lasted three minutes. Maybe four. Alex said very little. Mostly listened. His free hand rested on the desk, fingers slowly curling into a fist, then relaxing.

Finally he spoke. "I'll handle it."

He ended the call.

He stood there for a moment, staring at the phone.

Then he walked to the door.

Back in the ballroom, Derek stood near the bar with his friends. Melissa was beside him.

"How long does a phone call take?" one of Derek's friends said.

"Maybe he's crying in there," another suggested.

The side door opened.

Alex walked back into the ballroom.

Conversations stopped. Heads turned.

He crossed the floor. Same borrowed jacket. Same modest clothes. But something had changed. His posture. The way he held himself.

Derek pushed off the bar. "Well? Who was it? Your landlord? The repo man?"

Alex looked at him. "A family matter. Like the manager said."

"Family matter," Derek repeated, smirking at his friends. "What family matter? Your mom running out of grocery money?"

The crowd chuckled.

"I should go," Alex said.

"What?"

"I said I should go." Alex turned toward the exit. "Congratulations again on your engagement."

"Wait, that's it?" Derek called after him. "You came all this way just to leave?"

Alex stopped. Looked back. "I came because I was invited. Now I'm leaving."

"Because your feelings are hurt? Because you realized you don't belong here?"

"Something like that."

Alex continued toward the exit.

Derek threw his arm around Melissa's shoulders. "Good riddance. Now we can actually enjoy the party."

The band started playing again. Guests returned to their conversations.

Alex walked through the hotel lobby. Past the concierge desk. Past the elaborate floral arrangements.

He pushed through the front doors.

The night air was cold. Sharp. He stood on the steps and looked out at the city.

Behind him, through the glass doors, the party continued.

Then he heard it. The low rumble of an engine.

A black car pulled up to the entrance. Not a taxi. Not an Uber. A Mercedes S-Class. Midnight black. Tinted windows.

The valet started to approach, then stopped. Stared.

The hotel manager appeared in the doorway. He saw the car. His face went pale.

The rear door of the Mercedes opened.

A man stepped out. Sixty-something. Impeccably dressed in a charcoal suit. Silver hair. He moved with quiet authority that made people step back without being asked.

He looked at Alex.

"Mr. Chen," the man said. "The car is ready."

Inside the lobby, guests were starting to notice. The valets stood frozen.

Alex didn't move. Didn't speak.

The silver-haired man waited. Patient. Respectful but not subservient.

Finally, Alex walked down the steps.

The man held the door open.

Alex paused. Looked back at the hotel. At the golden lights. At the ballroom windows where Derek's party continued.

Then he got into the car.

The door closed with a solid, expensive sound.

The Mercedes pulled away from the curb. Silent. Smooth. Disappearing into the night traffic.

The valets stared after it.

"What the hell was that?" one whispered.

"That car... that's at least ten million."

The manager stood in the doorway watching the taillights disappear.