The Illegitimate Heir

Chapter 9

Still shaken by the sudden revelation, Adrian sat weakly on his bed, which was a flat mattress on the floor.

It was as if all the fight had been punched out of him.

The pain he had received from the blows, and not even Patricia's treatment, shook him this much.

His wound was superficial and would heal soon enough.

His mother's preferential treatment was not new, even if the ache had not been dulled by two years' respite.

But this? That pain carved at his heart, threatening to reduce him to a bloody mess.

Still, Adrian straightened as he exhaled a shaky breath.

He looked around his cramped space like he had not remembered how he entered.

His eyes caught on the concrete, low-sloped ceiling that was also touching his head even though he was seated.

The low steel door he always had to bend his six-foot height to enter stared back at him as if it were judging, just like everyone else.

The narrow mattress he sat on took up most of the space in such a way that if he stretched his feet, they would touch the door.

Compared to Adrian's ‘room’, a boy's quarters would be like a king's palace.

Still, he kept it clean with no clutter.

The threadbare bedsheet was tucked in neatly like in a military camp.

His other pair of loafers was tucked just beneath the single stool in the room.

A few cheap-looking clothes hung on hangers on the handmade rack to the left.

The devastated look on Adrian's face morphed into determination as he stood up.

He moved the stool and shoes aside.

The tiles underneath looked just like every other tile until Adrian pried the edge open with a flat steel tool.

He reached inside and pulled out a plain-looking box.

Inside it was a plastic aeroplane toy with writing scratched into its side.

Adrian's eyes clouded with emotion as he read the inscription.

“Fly free, my phantom.”

His hand shook slightly as he set it aside and reached for a plain-looking phone.

It was a burner phone.

One of the few that could not be traced by anyone.

A weight settled upon him as he turned on the phone.

A feeling like that of a man taking a peek into his abandoned past.

He briskly dialled a number, and the call was picked up almost immediately.

Not even a breath could be heard from the other end, and Adrian was proud that years had not changed some things.

“Web spins,” he said in a commanding tone.

Someone's breath caught on the other end before an excited voice exclaimed, “Master, is that really you? It is really you, isn't it?”

A genuine smile curved Adrian's lips as memories flooded in, reducing the heaviness in his heart slightly.

“Listen, do you have anything new on that?” He asked with hope in his heart and listened carefully.

His fist was clenched hard by the time he was done giving the new instructions.

He disconnected the call and stared at the phone in frustration.

His voice was cold and his gaze deadly as he said, “You have gone too far this time, Father.”

“I will not forgive you for this,” he vowed.

A swift kick to the door and a splash of water woke Adrian up the next day.

It was the weekend and he normally should not go to work.

He had stayed up until late in the night too and had only fallen asleep as dawn approached.

Swiping the water down his dripping face, he looked up to see Patricia's disapproving look just beyond the door.

Of course, he did not expect her to bend through the door.

She was too distinguished for that.

It was her son who was not worth the consideration.

“Why are you still in bed at this time? Are the chores going to do themselves?” she snapped at him.

She looked to be in good condition. Her pale colour was gone and her cheeks looked rosy, maybe from her anger or the work of blush.

She had on her signature cashmere dress.

The ash colour and design looked painfully like what the late Madam Cross wore in the enlarged picture upstairs.

Only Patricia was blind to how obvious her desperate attempt to look and act like the late woman was.

Adrian used to feel embarrassed for her, but right now, he simply did not care as he stood up from the drenched mattress.

Good thing he had returned the phone last night.

“Did you not hear me? How dare you ignore me now?” she snapped at him.

“The chores are for the staff. That is why we have them, right? You really should stop upsetting yourself like this. Your body might not take it. Would not want you in another coma, you know?”

Her eyes widened in outrage and surprise. “How dare you curse your own mother like that? Is this how I raised you?”

Raised him? Adrian scoffed bitterly.

If not for Dahlia, he probably would not have lived long enough to see that day.

And now they were using her life as leverage?

Adrian peeled the wet mattress off the floor, not caring that the dripping water swung towards Patricia as he turned.

She danced back in time to save her hundred-thousand-dollar shoes from getting wet.

Adrian threw the mattress at the maid still holding the bucket she had splashed him with, saying, “If you can pour it, you can clean it up, right?”