The Hidden Heir

CHAPTER 7

The next morning the campus was full of talk about the warehouse fire.  

Some students said it was an accident. Others whispered about rivals and dirty business. No one connected it to me. That was how Dad wanted it for now.

I cleaned the court early and skipped my first class. I needed to do something I had never done before.

I took a bus to the center of Grandville and walked into Elysian Mall.  

It was the most expensive shopping place in the city. Glass walls, bright lights, and stores with names I used to see only on billboards. Two weeks ago the security guards would have watched me like a thief. Today I walked in with the black card in my pocket.

I went straight to a men’s clothing store on the second floor. The clothes inside cost more than I used to earn in a month.

A saleswoman looked at my old jeans and worn shoes. Her smile was polite but cold.

“Can I help you?” she asked, already sounding sure I couldn’t afford anything.

“I need a full set of clothes,” I said. “Shirts, pants, jacket, shoes. Good quality.”

She raised an eyebrow. “Our prices start quite high, sir.”

I took out the black card and placed it on the counter. “That’s fine.”

Her eyes widened when she saw the card. The cold smile disappeared.

“Of course. Right this way, sir.”

For the next hour she brought out clothes I had only seen on rich students. I chose simple, dark colors. Nothing flashy. A black jacket, two white shirts, dark pants, and a pair of clean leather shoes. The total was more money than I had held in my entire life before the birthday transfer.

I paid without blinking.

When I walked out of the store wearing the new clothes, the same saleswoman held the door open and said, “Please come again, Mr. Carter.”

I looked at my reflection in the mall window. The person staring back still had my face, but he no longer looked like the cleaner from Westbridge University.

I took a taxi back to campus. The driver glanced at me in the mirror more than once but said nothing.

I arrived just as the lunch crowd filled the main walkway. Ryan, Maya, and a group of basketball players stood near the steps. Maya saw me first. Her mouth opened slightly.

Ryan followed her gaze. He looked me up and down, then laughed.

“What is this? Costume day? Did you steal those clothes, Carter?”

A few of his friends joined the laughter.

I walked toward them at a normal pace. My new shoes made almost no sound.

“They’re mine,” I said calmly.

Ryan stepped in front of me. “Since when does a floor cleaner wear clothes like that?”

I met his eyes. “Since now.”

Maya stared at the jacket. I could see the questions spinning behind her eyes. She opened her mouth, then closed it again.

Ryan’s smile turned mean. “You’re really trying hard to impress someone. Too bad everyone still knows what you are.”

I didn’t raise my voice. “Maybe. But at least I pay for my own clothes. How about you, Ryan? Still using your father’s credit card for everything?”

A couple of students nearby laughed. Ryan’s face went red.

Before he could answer, Elena walked up with Sara Quinn. She looked at me, then at the new clothes, then back at my face. Surprise flashed in her eyes, but she didn’t speak right away.

Ryan noticed her and forced a grin. “Elena, look. The cleaner got a makeover. What do you think?”

Elena’s voice was quiet but clear. “I think people can change.”

She gave me a small nod and kept walking with Sara. That single sentence shut Ryan up more than anything I could have said.

I walked past him and headed to the library. My heart beat a little faster, but my face stayed calm.

Inside the library I found an empty table and sat down. My phone buzzed almost immediately.

A message from Maya:

“Where did you get that money? Call me.”

I deleted it.

Then a message from Dad:

“The fire investigators found traces of accelerant. It was deliberate. Hale moved a large sum to an offshore account two days before the fire. We are getting closer.”

I typed back: “What do you want me to do?”

Dad replied: “Nothing yet. Keep living your life. But start attending the business elective classes at the university. You need to understand the language of money. I already added you to the advanced course.”

I stared at the message. Advanced business classes. Two weeks ago I was just trying to pass regular subjects while mopping floors.

Another message came in, this time from the unknown number.

“Nice clothes, heir.  

Looking rich is easy.  

Staying alive is harder.  

Check your old apartment tonight.  

— R.K.”

My stomach tightened.

I left the library early and took the bus home. When I reached my floor, the hallway smelled wrong. Smoke.

The door to my small apartment was half open. Inside, the mattress was burned black. My few clothes were in a pile of ashes. The cracked window was broken completely. Someone had set a small, controlled fire — just enough to destroy everything I owned, but not enough to burn the whole building.

On the wall, written in black marker, were three words:

“Still just a cleaner.”

I stood in the doorway and stared at the mess.

Kane had reached my home.

I took out my phone and called Dad.

“He found the apartment,” I said.

Dad’s voice was tight. “Pack nothing. Leave now. There is a car waiting downstairs. The driver will take you to a safe place for tonight. We will talk in the morning.”

I walked back down the stairs. A black car sat at the curb. The driver nodded once and opened the back door.

As I climbed in, I looked up at the dark window of the room that used to be mine.

The old life was gone.

Burned away in a single night.

And the new one had just become a lot more dangerous.