The Heir's Revenge

Chapter 8: The Fall To Greatness

By noon the next day the internet was on fire.

>BREAKING: “LanceCorp trillionaire heir seen in Zurich weakling the rarest suit in the world—only three ever made.

Every social media feed, business blog, and gossip page flashed the same photo, a tall man stepping out at a luxury tailor’s boutique, confidence dripping from every inch of his immaculate suit.

His wrist watch gleamed under the sun, his posture commanded respect, and though his face is not very much visible, the side profile was unmistakable.

Rebecca dropped her phone twice before she was able to open it again.

Her pulse hammered as she zoomed in on the image.

The beeline. The posture. The paint unmistakable scar on his neck, from when he was a child.

Lawrence.

She froze on the couch, barely breathing and then— she screamed.

“No….no….no, no, no. It can’t be.”

Her mother, Stella came running into the living room, fear and concern etched on her face.

“What’s wrong? What are you looking at?!”

Rebecca didn’t answer, she just continued staring at the screen as the caption burned in her head:

>The trillionaire in the photo reportedly bought two of the three suits and paid in full.

Her father walked in, reading the same article from the paper.

“Strange, he looks just like—“

“Don’t,” Rebecca snapped, her voice trembling.

“Don’t say it, you saying it means it’s true.”

“What’s true?” Her mother finally came closer, grabbing Rebecca’s phone and reading the article.

Her eyes go wide.

“What’s the matter with you?” Her father asked, raising a brow.

That’s Lawrence, my husband!” Rebecca said as her lips trembled.

Stella shook her head aggressively. “No, no. It could just be his lookalike.” She lied to herself.

“lookalike? Mom, look at the scare! It’s him!”

Her mother takes a close look and gasps.

“Dear God. Honey she’s right, it is Lawrence.”

Her father frowned. “The same Lawrence we—“

“Yes!” Rebecca cut him off. “The one we kicked out. The one we used and took a loan out on his name. The one we took everything from!”

The room went silent.

Then her father chuckled.

“Impossible. That man had nothing when he left here just two days ago, he was penniless. That man on the news is wearing a suit worth millions. Lawrence in his whole life, even before he married you, couldn’t even afford the buttons on it.”

Rebecca glared at him, chest heaving. “You think I wouldn’t know my own husband I was married to for years?! Look at the way he stands, his height, even his hair! That's him dad I’m telling you!”

“Did we not drain him thoroughly? Or did he have a secret fund account we didn’t know about?” Her father said as he paced around the living room.

Her mother rubbed her temples, anxiety crawling up her tone. “If that’s really Lawrence, then—“

“Then we made the biggest and most terrible mistakes of our lives.” Rebecca said quietly, voice cracking.

She stands up suddenly. “I’m going over there.”

Her father looks at her in disbelief. “You will do no such things. Do you want him–if it’s really Lawrence, to think that we’re that desperate?”

“Father, I don't care. Remember you told me to go for the biggest fish, and that was Jordan at the time. Now it’s Lawrence.”

Her mother disagreed. “Rebecca, we have pride as the Edwards family. We will not taint our image by going back to our left overs.”

“Leftovers?” Rebecca scoffs. “He is now the full course meal.”

“This could be fake for all we know. He could have done something, try to bait us, to bait you.” Her father said.

Rebecca groaned. “Father, over thirty five news outlets have posted this, and ten are from official news channels. What could be fake about this!”

“I don’t care! You will not make us look desperate.” Her mother said sternly.

“But we are, aren’t we.” She picked up her things, moving out of the living room.

“I don’t care either way. I’m going.”

Meanwhile across Zurich, in a penthouse high above the city, Lawrence watched the same headlines spread across his screen.

He didn’t smile—he didn’t see any reason to this time.

Kent stood beside him, tablet in hand. “Sir, your photo’s gone viral. The press is calling you the ‘ghost heir’ you’ve become the most talked about man in Europe overnight.

Lawrence exhaled. “As expected.”

“Do you need us to take everything down?”

“No, I’m used to people talking, let them talk.”

Kent smirked. “The woman you want to divorce must be losing her mind right now.”

He didn’t reply, just stared out the window. The reflection of the city lights glowed against the glass.

Kent hesitated. “You really aren’t going to issue any statement about your identity? Clarify some false speculations.”

“No,” Lawrence said. “Let them doubt, let them guess, let them spread false rumors. The less they know, the more power it gives me.”

He walked toward his desk, phone buzzing quietly beside a neat pile of documents, the finalized divorce papers.

His fingers brushed over them, eyes calm but holding so much weight behind them.

Kent nodded slowly. “And the woman?”

Lawrence paused at the window. “She’ll come running back soon enough.”

“How can you be so sure sir?”

“Because I know her, her parents might not want to believe and would want to keep their pride, but she? She would do anything for money.”

Outside was a continuous flow of posting, speculating and somewhere across beyond Zurich the Edwards were panicking.

“Call the lawyers, let them know that they need to be ready any day from now.”

Kent bowed slightly. “Of course sir.”

He walked out of the room, leaving Lawrence alone with his thoughts and internet noise.

He picked up his phone, scrolled through the buzzing notifications, and smiled faintly at the irony of it all.

He isn’t the man begging for his wife or being humiliated and heart broken under the rain anymore.

He was LanceCorp. And he was done being small.

“I guess the fall is always necessary.”

Kent asked, confused. “What fall?”

“The fall to greatness.”