The Lost Heir: Trials of an Empire Reclaimed

Chapter 027

Morning sunlight slanted through the floor-to-ceiling windows of the Lancaster headquarters as Mat stepped out of the elevator onto the 42nd floor.

The quiet hum of white-noise machines and the soft click of heels echoed in the corridor. Mat paused outside Silas’s office, took a breath, and knocked once.

“Come in,” Silas’s voice called.

Mat opened the door and entered, finding Silas behind his massive teak desk, poring over a stack of folders.

He looked up, and the two men met in the middle of the spacious office for a firm handshake.

“Mat,” Silas greeted, a genuine smile tugging at his lips. “Good to see you. How are you finding your first day as heir?” Mat asked.

Silas chuckled, tapping the edge of a folder. “Managing. The staff have been incredible—gracious, efficient. I couldn’t ask for a better welcome.”

Mat’s eyes rested for a moment on the panoramic city view behind Silas before he looked back.

“Glad to hear it. I came by to make it even easier. What can I help you with today?”

Silas hesitated. He’d learned to guard his plans, but Mat had been really forthcoming and was hellbent on been a confidant for him.

With a slow nod, he rose and motioned to the desk. “I have these pending documents—agreements, memos, some legal briefs from last quarter. I could use a second pair of eyes.”

Mat pulled up a sleek leather chair and sank into it. Silas slid several folders across the polished surface.

“First, this partnership proposal with Harrington Transports—they want Lancaster capital to back their electric fleet expansion. Then there’s the Montague Steelworks contract renegotiation, and… the NGO funding allocations.”

Mat rifled through the papers, brow furrowed in concentration. “Ah, right. On Harrington, I’d recommend we adjust our equity stake from 15 to 20 percent to secure voting rights. With Montague, their lead engineer just resigned—worth negotiating a shorter term with penalty clauses if they fail to deliver on R&D milestones.”

He paused, looking up. “And the NGO… remember Elena Rogers? She’s expanding into agricultural clinics. Our grant should come with training covenants so the program runs independently after two years.”

Silas exhaled, relief mingled with admiration. “That’s exactly the context I needed. Where did you learn all that?”

Mat leaned back, tapping the folder. “I live in the company archives, remember? Went over every file last night. I wanted to hit the ground running for you.”

Silas let that sink in, gratitude warming his chest. “I owe you one.”

Mat’s phone buzzed in his pocket. He checked it, face tightening. “I’m sorry—I have to run. An urgent matter at home.”

He rose and extended his hand again. “I’ll be back this afternoon. Don’t hesitate to text if you need me.”

Silas nodded, shook Mat’s hand, and watched as his friend exited with a brisk nod.

He returned to his desk, the weight of new responsibilities balanced by the support they’d shared.

***

The sun dipped low and the city lights flickered on as evening embraced the streets. A sleek black Mercedes-Benz idled before Lilian’s townhouse—its paint an obsidian mirror reflecting ornate streetlamps.

Damien Carter stepped out in a tailored midnight suit, the silk of his tie glinting under the porch light. He opened the rear door with a flourish.

Lilian emerged, glowing in a soft blush pink dress that swept the pavement.

Her hair tumbled in loose waves over her shoulders, eyes bright despite the turmoil of recent days. As Damien helped her in, she gave him a shy smile.

“Shall we?” he asked, closing the door behind them.

Lilian settled into the plush leather seat and tugged at the hem of her dress. “Yes. Let’s go.” Her voice was giddy with anticipation.

The engine purred to life, and the Benz slid into traffic.

Damien guided them through winding streets until they reached the private park—an open expanse hidden behind wrought-iron gates.

Lanterns hung from the trees, casting pools of golden light on manicured lawns. A small fountain tinkled in the center of a circular pavilion, and soft jazz drifted from hidden speakers.

Damien led Lilian to a secluded picnic set-up beneath a canopy of fairy lights. A low table bore a feast.

Candlelit candles, charcuterie boards, fresh fruit, and chilled champagne in a silver bucket. Lilian’s eyes sparkled.

“Oh, Damien, this is… magical,” she breathed, settling onto a plush blanket.

He poured two flutes of bubbly and handed one to her. “To new beginnings,” he toasted, catching her eyes.

Lilian clinked her glass against his. “To… forgetting last night.” She took a sip, and her shoulders relaxed for the first time in days.

They ate delicate canapés and sipped champagne, the night cocooning them in its hush. Then Damien extended a hand. “Dance?”

A jazz waltz began, and they moved to the fountain’s edge. Lilian laughed as Damien spun her, the skirt of her dress fluttering.

Under the lantern glow, their silhouettes swayed in perfect time, the world beyond the park momentarily forgotten.

After two tracks, Damien grinned mischievously. “Care for a swim?”

Lilian raised an eyebrow. The fountain was meant for ornament, but its water glowed under moonlight. “Are you serious?” she teased.

“As serious as your smile,” he replied, pulling off his jacket. He stepped into the shallow water, ripples lapping at his shoes.

Lilian giggled, shrugging out of her heels. The dress’s hem brushed the surface as she joined him.

Damien scooped her up without warning, and she squealed, water splashing at their feet.

“Am I going under?” she laughed as he carried her toward the deeper basin.

“Only if you want to,” he whispered, dipping her into the cool water. He held her close, her laughter echoing across the park.

After the impromptu swim, they towel-dried by the fire pit and roasted marshmallows on slender skewers.

Lilian’s fingers brushed a smear of melted chocolate from Damien’s cheek.

“Thank you so much for this,” she said, slipping her hand into his. “I really appreciate it.”

Damien drew her into a tender embrace and kissed her deeply, passion sparking between them. “Anything for you, princess,” he murmured against her lips.

The warmth of the fire at their backs and the hush of the private park wrapped them in a perfect moment—carefree and incandescent.

Eventually they returned to the Benz, dripping pearls of water as they settled back into the seat. Damien draped a dry jacket over Lilian’s shoulders.

“As long as you’re smiling,” he said softly, “I’ll plan a hundred nights like this.”

Lilian leaned into him, resting her head on his shoulder as the car whisked them back through the night-lit streets.

The park’s fairy lights faded behind them, but the glow between them—newly renewed—would carry her through whatever dawn would bring.