The Heir's Revenge

Mine

The sun hadn't even risen when Lawrence arrived at the airport.

His clothes were still damp from last night's storm and his eyes looked hollow but alive. A kind of exhaustion that had purpose behind it.

He didn't have a suitcase to his name, only a worn-out backpack that carried the few things he hadn't lost; his phone, his tattered wallet, and his passport.

The flight attendant at check-in eyed him suspiciously.

"One-way ticket to Zurich?"

"Yes," he replied quietly, sliding his ID across the counter.

She hesitated at first, typing slowly before printing the boarding pass. "Gate 17. Boarding in 45 minutes."

He nodded, took the pass and began walking away.

But she suddenly called him back.

"Oh," she said, her face morphed from that of suspicion to admiration.

"You just got upgraded to first class."

"What?" Lawrence exclaimed. "I don't remember—"

"I'll just get that boarding pass ready for you, sir."

The 'sir' slipped out of her tongue like it was the best sound Lawrence had ever heard.

He smiled. "Of course. Thank you."

He grabbed the upgraded boarding pass and walked away.

When he finally sat by the window, watching planes lift off one by one, it felt unreal.

A flight attendant moved towards him with a tray of different snacks and drinks. "Would you like anything, sir?"

He smiled. He could get used to this.

He was about to decline but his stomach growled in protest.

"I think I'll just have the bread and cheese, for now."

The attendant handed it to him. "What would you want for your main course?"

"How about rice and chicken sauce?"

"Of course."

The flight attendant walked away with her tray.

With a smile on his face, he closed his eyes. For the first time in a long time, his thoughts were somewhat clear.

He had nothing but he was going somewhere that could change everything.

The flight was long, almost ten hours.

He barely spoke to anyone, except the flight attendants who would come to check in and ask if he was comfortable and enjoying his flight.

Sometimes, his mind drifted to Rebecca's face, to Jordan's smug grin, to the laughter of his in-laws when they told him he was worthless.

He clenched his jaw. "You'll eat those words soon enough."

He slept for a few hours, then woke up as the captain announced their descent.

The view outside made him pause — snow-dusted peaks, lakes glinting in pale sunlight, and a skyline of glass towers. Zurich was cold, beautiful, and merciless.

Just like the future waiting for him.

At the arrivals terminal, a man in a charcoal suit stood with a placard that read:

Mr Lawrence Stiff—LanceCorp.

The man's expression didn't waver when Lawrence approached. He simply bowed and said, "Welcome to Switzerland, sir. I'm Mr Kent."

Lawrence blinked. "You…..you're the one who spoke to me over the phone?"

"The very same." Kent's smile was small but it seemed to reach his eyes.

"I trust your flight was tolerable?"

"It most definitely was enjoyable."

Kent motioned toward the exit. "Your car is waiting, sir. There's so much to discuss on the way."

The car parked right in front of Lawrence was a black Bentley, it was three grades above Jordan's.

The car ride was sleek and silent, like they were gliding through the icy streets.

Kent poured him a cup of coffee from a thermos. "You've inherited not just a company, Mr Stiff, but an empire. LanceCorp dominates logistics, finance, biotechnology and defense. But without a leader, factions have begun to form deep inside the company, within the board."

Lawrence sipped the coffee, his fingers still cold. "Factions?"

Kent nodded. "Yes, some want to divide the company, others want to install some kind of….puppet CEO. Someone they can bend and twist, someone who'll bark and go silent, and be at their every beck and call. But the chairman's will was clear. Only you, Lawrence Stiff, inherit everything."

Lawrence's expression remained unreadable. "And I'm guessing that they don't plan on welcoming me with open arms or sitting still."

Kent gave his small smile again. "You assume correctly, sir."

"And what about you?" Lawrence suddenly asked. "Where do you stand in all this?"

Kent was quiet for a while, staring out the window, before he finally spoke.

"For me…..I don't desire wealth or anything like that."

"Then what's your gain? Because as the executive secretary, this seat was supposed to be yours to take."

Kent chuckled softly. "Indeed. But I've been with Mr Thomas for more than twelve years and never have I felt inferior. He was more than good to me. So when he told me that he had someone he believed would run his company smoothly, I didn't question him."

He paused.

"For the twelve years that I've been with him, never has he made a decision that went wrong. So I'm trusting in him, even in death. So believe me when I tell you, I have no interest in wealth."

With that being said, Lawrence freed his mind towards Kent.

They stopped before a towering building, over eighty stories of mirrored glass, reflecting the pale Swiss sky. At the very top, the LanceCorp emblem gleamed like a crown.

Lawrence stepped out of the car, breath misting in the cold. He tilted his head back, taking in the glorious sight before him.

This is mine.

The thought felt strange, almost too good to be real.

He followed Kent through the revolving doors. Inside, the lobby was vast, marble floors stretching endlessly.

Every head turned when he walked in—executives, interns, guards—all staring at the rumpled-clothed, travel-torn man in an old coat walking beside Mr Kent.

Murmurs rippled through the air.

"Who is that?"

"That's the guy the chairman claimed to be his heir."

"No way. He looks like he can't even afford a hotel."

Lawrence ignored them. It wasn't a first for him and it most definitely wouldn't be the last.

They entered the elevator. Kent pressed the top floor. As the doors closed, Kent glanced at him. "They will test you, sir. They don't believe in the upcoming, only in money and strength."

"Then I'll show them both," Lawrence said quietly.