The Heir's Ascent: From Rags to Fortune.

CHAPTER FOUR

I woke up in a bed so comfortable I thought I was still dreaming.

Hell, I couldn't tell the difference between dream and reality anymore.

For a long moment, I just lay there, staring at the ceiling—which was at least fifteen feet above me—trying to remember where I was. Then it all came flooding back. Sarah. Dylan. The hundred million dollars. Victoria Ashford.

The penthouse!

I sat up slowly, taking in my surroundings in the morning light. The bedroom alone was bigger than the entire storage closet I'd been sleeping in at the Blake house. Floor-to-ceiling windows offered a panoramic view of the city skyline. The furniture looked like it belonged in a museum. There was actual art on the walls—not prints, but original paintings.

My phone buzzed on the nightstand. I grabbed it and saw a text from an unknown number.

*Good morning. Breakfast will be ready in the dining room whenever you are. Take your time. - Victoria*

I glanced at the clock. 9:47 AM. I couldn't remember the last time I'd slept past 6:00. Usually I had to be at my first job by 7:00.

But I didn't have those jobs anymore, did I?

I got up and found my way to the bathroom, which was approximately the size of my entire bedroom at the Blakes'. The shower had at least six different nozzles and a control panel that looked like it belonged on a spaceship. After a minute minutes of tinkering,I eventually figured out how to make water come out, and stood under the hot spray for a long time, hoping to be able to process everything.

Twenty-four hours ago, I'd been a broke college student working three jobs just to survive. Now I was... what, exactly? Rich? Powerful? The heir to some family I'd never even met?

It still didn't feel real.

After showering, I found fresh clothes laid out in the bedroom—expensive brands I recognized from store windows I'd never been able to afford to enter. Everything fit perfectly. Someone had clearly taken my measurements.

I made my way to the dining room, following the smell of coffee and food. Victoria was already there, sitting at a massive table and typing on her laptop. She looked up when I entered and smiled.

"Good morning. How did you sleep?"

"Like the dead," I admitted, sitting down across from her. "That bed is ridiculous."

"Ten thousand dollar mattress. Custom made. Feels like you were being massaged overnight right?.”

I nodded affirmatively.

She gestured to the spread of food laid out on the table. "I wasn't sure what you liked, so I ordered a variety. Please, help yourself."

I stared at the options. Fresh fruit. Pastries. Eggs prepared three different ways. Bacon. Sausage. Toast. Pancakes. It was more food than I usually ate in a month.

I grabbed a plate and started loading it up, suddenly ravenous. Victoria watched with an amused expression.

"Are you just coming out of a compulsory fast?" she asked. “Seems like you haven't had a real meal in ages.”

"Define 'real meal,'" I said around a mouthful of eggs. "I had ramen yesterday afternoon. That count?"

Her expression tightened. "The Blakes really didn't feed you properly, did they?"

"They fed me," I said. "Just... not the same stuff they fed Dylan. I usually ate whatever was left over. Or I bought my own food, when I could afford it." I paused. "Which wasn't often."

Victoria was quiet for a moment, her fingers drumming on the table. "I ran a background check on the Blake family last night," she said finally. "I hope you don't mind."

"What did you find?"

"They're comfortable, financially. Not wealthy, but comfortable. Your adoptive father owns a successful insurance agency. Your adoptive mother runs a boutique. Combined annual income of about three hundred thousand dollars."

I nearly choked on my coffee. "Three hundred thousand?"

"Yes. Which makes their treatment of you even more inexcusable. They had the means to provide for you properly. They chose not to."

I set down my fork, my appetite suddenly gone. "Why?"

"That's the question I keep asking myself," Victoria said. She turned her laptop around so I could see the screen. It showed a photo of the Blake family—my adoptive parents and Dylan, all dressed up and smiling for a professional portrait. "Normal people who adopt children do so because they want to provide a good home. They don't treat the adopted child as a servant."

"So what are you saying?"

"I'm saying something about your adoption was unusual from the start. The timing alone is suspicious—they adopted you, then immediately had a biological child? That's not how it usually works." She pulled up another document. "I'm having my legal team dig deeper into the adoption records. There's something here that doesn't add up."

I leaned back in my chair, processing this. "You think they knew something? About who I really was?"

"I think it's possible. But I won't know for sure until we have more information." She closed the laptop. "In the meantime, we need to discuss your new situation. You have questions, I'm sure."

"About a thousand of them."

"Let's start with the basics." Victoria pulled out a folder and opened it. "Your birth name is Ethan Cole Ashford. You were born twenty years ago to Richard and Margaret Ashford. When you were six months old, there was an incident—a kidnapping attempt, we believe, though the details are still unclear. In the chaos, you were separated from your parents. They've been searching for you ever since."

"Twenty years," I said softly. "That's a long time."

"Yes. But they never gave up." She pulled out a photo and slid it across the table. "This is them."

I picked up the photo with trembling hands. It showed a couple in their late forties or early fifties. The man was tall and distinguished, with graying hair and sharp eyes. The woman was elegant, with dark hair like mine and a warm smile.

They looked like they belonged on magazine covers. Nothing like the Blakes.

"They wanted to come here themselves," Victoria said quietly. "But as I mentioned last night, the family situation is complicated. Richard—your father—has several business rivals who would be very interested to know about a long-lost heir. There are also... political considerations."

"Political?"

"The Ashford family has significant influence in government circles. Your reappearance could shift certain power dynamics. So for now, your identity needs to remain secret. The world can't know you're an Ashford."

I set down the photo. "So what am I supposed to do? Just live in a hotel forever?"

"Of course not. We'll find you a proper residence—a house or apartment of your choosing. We'll also need to discuss your education. I understand you're currently enrolled at community college?"

I nodded.

"Would you like to transfer to a university? With your resources, you could attend any school in the country. Or abroad, if you prefer."

The thought made my head spin. "I... I don't know. I hadn't really thought about it."

"That's fine. There's no rush." She made a note on her tablet. "We'll also need to set you up with a financial advisor, someone who can help you manage your assets. A hundred million dollars is a substantial amount of money, but it can disappear quickly if not handled properly."

"A hundred million dollars," I repeated, still not quite believing it.

"Actually, it's more than that now. Meridian Corporation generates approximately two billion in annual revenue. As the majority shareholder, you'll receive a significant portion of that." She smiled at my expression. "Welcome to wealth, Ethan."

My phone buzzed. I glanced at it and felt my stomach drop.

Three missed calls from Sarah. Two from Dylan. And a text message from an unknown number that simply read: *We need to talk.*

"Problem?" Victoria asked.

"My... I don't know what to call them anymore. My ex-girlfriend and the Blakes. They're trying to reach me."

"Do you want to respond?"

I thought about it. About Sarah's cold laugh when I'd confronted her. About Dylan's smug face. About my adoptive parents standing on the porch, ready to have me beaten for defending myself.

"No," I said finally. "No, I really don't."

"Good." Victoria's smile was approving. "They had their chance to treat you well. They made their choice. Now you get to make yours."

She was right. For the first time in my life, I had choices. Real choices.

The question was: what was I going to do with them?

"There's one more thing we need to discuss," Victoria said, her tone becoming more serious. "Your father asked me to give you a message."

I straightened in my chair. "What is it?"

"He said: 'Welcome home, son. I'm sorry it took so long to find you. I'm sorry you had to suffer. But that ends now. Everything I have is yours. Use it wisely.'" She paused. "He also said he hopes to meet you in person soon, when it's safe to do so."

My throat tightened. "He really said that?"

"Every word." Victoria reached across the table and squeezed my hand briefly. "You're not alone anymore, Ethan. You have family now. Real family. People who care about you and want to see you succeed."

I nodded, not trusting myself to speak.

My phone buzzed again. This time it was a call from yet another unknown number. I almost declined it, but something made me answer.

"Hello?"

"Mr. Cole?" A woman's voice, professional and brisk. "This is Jennifer Chen from Prestige University. I'm calling regarding your application."

I blinked. "My application? I didn't apply to Prestige."

"Ah, yes, I apologize for the confusion. Your application was submitted on your behalf this morning, along with a very generous donation to our scholarship fund. I'm pleased to inform you that you've been accepted for the spring semester, with a full aca

demic scholarship. We'd love to have you join us."

I looked at Victoria, who was smiling innocently at her laptop.

"I... thank you," I managed. "