The Hidden Heir

CHAPTER 8

The black car took me to a quiet apartment on the other side of Grandville.  

It was clean, small, and already paid for. Dad had arranged everything in less than an hour. New clothes hung in the closet. A simple phone charger sat on the table. No one except Dad and the driver knew I was there.

I slept only a few hours. When morning came, I put on one of the new shirts and went back to Westbridge University. I still had a job to finish, and I wasn’t ready to disappear completely.

I walked onto the basketball court with the mop and bucket. Coach Harlan stood near the bleachers with his arms crossed. Ryan and two other players were with him.

Coach looked at my new clothes and frowned.

“Carter. In my office. Now.”

I followed him into the small room beside the gym. The walls were covered with old team photos and trophies. Coach closed the door and sat behind his desk.

“I’m ending your cleaning contract,” he said. “Effective today.”

I stayed standing. “Why?”

“You’ve become a distraction. The team doesn’t need drama. Ryan told me you’ve been talking back, starting problems, and now you’re walking around in expensive clothes like you own the place. I don’t need that energy around my players.”

Ryan’s name. Of course.

“I’ve never missed a shift,” I said. “The court has always been clean.”

Coach waved a hand. “Doesn’t matter. I want you gone. Turn in the keys and leave.”

I looked at him for a long second. Two weeks ago I would have lowered my head and walked out. Today I felt something colder and steadier.

“Coach,” I said quietly, “do you know who owns the company that sponsors this basketball program?”

He blinked. “What?”

“Carter Global Holdings. They pay for the new uniforms, the court repairs, and half the travel budget. My family name is on the main sponsorship contract.”

Coach’s face changed. He sat up straighter.

“You’re lying.”

I took out my phone, opened one of the files Dad had sent, and turned the screen toward him. The sponsorship document was clear. Carter Global Holdings. Primary sponsor of Westbridge University Athletics.

Coach stared at the screen. His mouth opened, then closed.

“I’ve been cleaning this court for over a year,” I said. “I never asked for special treatment. But if you fire me because Ryan is uncomfortable, I will make one phone call. The sponsorship money can disappear by tomorrow morning.”

Coach’s face went pale. “You wouldn’t.”

“I don’t want to,” I said. “I just want to do my job without being pushed around. Keep the contract. I’ll keep the court clean. And tell Ryan to stay out of my way.”

Coach swallowed hard. He looked at the door, then back at me.

“Fine,” he said. “The job stays. But keep your head down. I don’t want trouble.”

“Neither do I.”

I walked out of the office. Ryan was waiting in the hallway with a smug smile. When he saw Coach’s face, the smile faded.

“What happened?” Ryan asked.

Coach didn’t look at him. “Get back to practice. Now.”

I picked up the mop and went back to work. For the first time, the court felt different under my feet.

At lunch Elena found me near the vending machines. She looked at the new shirt, then at my face.

“I heard Coach tried to fire you,” she said.

“He changed his mind.”

She studied me for a moment. “You’re really not the same person anymore, are you?”

I didn’t answer right away. “People change when they have to.”

Elena nodded slowly. “My dad’s operation is next week. The hospital called this morning. They said the full cost was covered by an anonymous donor. I don’t know who it was, but… thank you. Whoever did it.”

I kept my face calm. “I’m glad he’s getting the help.”

She smiled, a real one this time, and walked away.

I watched her go. Dad had kept his word. Elena’s father would get the operation. That was one small thing Kane could not touch.

My phone buzzed.

A message from Dad:

“Hale moved another payment last night. We traced part of it to a company that supplies cleaning chemicals to the university. Kane has people closer than we thought. Be careful who you speak to on campus.”

I put the phone away and finished my shift.

As I locked the equipment room, a man in a dark jacket walked toward me. I had never seen him before. He stopped a few meters away and spoke in a low voice.

“Damon Carter?”

“Who are you?”

He smiled without warmth. “A friend of Mr. Kane. He wants a meeting. Tomorrow night. A restaurant called The Oak Room. Come alone. If you bring anyone, or if you tell your father, the next fire will not be empty.”

He placed a small white card on the ground, turned, and walked away.

I picked up the card. Only an address and a time were written on it.

Tomorrow night.

Kane was done sending messages.

He wanted to meet face to face.

I stood in the empty hallway and stared at the card.

The game had just moved to a new level.

And this time, I would have to decide whether to walk into the room… or stay hidden a little longer.