The Mistreated Heir Is An Urban God

8

Rufus's expression transformed from mild confusion to something dangerous. He stepped fully into the office, his polished shoes clicking against hardwood with measured, threatening precision. The temperature seemed to drop with each step.

"Mr. Yin." Rufus's voice was silk wrapped around steel. "Did I just witness you attempting to have the heir—the man I've protected for ten years—ARRESTED?"

Yin remained on his knees, his body shaking like a leaf in a storm. "Mr. Blackwell, please! It was a misunderstanding! I thought—"

"You thought WHAT exactly?" Rufus towered over him. "That you could treat Alexander like garbage? Call him a cockroach? A fraud? An insect?" Each word came out sharper than the last. "You run one of our subsidiary companies, Yin. ONE. And you had the AUDACITY to abuse the man who now owns seventy percent of everything you touch?"

"I didn't know! The machine showed red, and I panicked!"

"You panicked?" Rufus's laugh was cold enough to freeze blood. "You panicked, so you decided to have him dragged away like a criminal? You called the young master—the HEIR—a parasite who crawled from a dumpster?"

The guards had backed against the walls, their faces pale with terror. Yin collapsed further, his forehead pressed against the expensive carpet.

"My children, Mr. Blackwell! Please think of my children! They're innocent in this! Don't punish them for their father's stupidity!"

"Your children?" Rufus pulled out his phone. "I should call every board member right now. I should have you removed from not just this position but from EVERY position. You should be blacklisted from—"

"Rufus, stop."

Alex's voice cut through the tension quietly but firmly. He stepped forward, placing a hand on Rufus's arm. The older man turned, surprise evident on his face.

"Alexander, this man just tried to—"

"I know what he did." Alex looked down at the trembling CEO, his expression unreadable. "And I know he was wrong. But everyone deserves a second chance. Even people who make terrible mistakes."

"A second chance?" Rufus's eyebrows shot up. "He called you an INSECT!"

"Yes. He did." Alex moved to where Yin knelt and extended his hand. "But I've been called worse by people who mattered more to me. At least Mr. Yin thought he was protecting the heir. His intentions, however misguided, weren't malicious."

Yin stared at the offered hand like it was a miracle he didn't deserve. "Young master... I don't... I can't..."

"Take it." Alex's voice softened. "Stand up, Mr. Yin. Men shouldn't grovel like this."

With trembling fingers, Yin grasped Alex's hand. Alex pulled him to his feet with surprising strength, steadying the older man when his legs threatened to give out.

"Thank you," Yin whispered, tears still streaming down his face. "Thank you, young master. I don't deserve this kindness."

"None of us deserve all the kindness we receive." Alex released his hand and turned to Rufus. "Let it go. Please."

Rufus stared at Alex for a long moment, something like wonder and frustration warring in his expression. "You're too forgiving, Alexander. I wouldn't have been nearly this merciful."

"I know. That's why I'm asking."

Rufus sighed heavily, pocketing his phone. "Fine. Mr. Yin keeps his position. But one more mistake—ONE—and there won't be a second chance. Understood?"

"Yes, sir! Absolutely, sir!" Yin wiped his face with shaking hands. "I swear on my children's lives, nothing like this will ever happen again!"

"It better not." Rufus gestured toward the desk. "Now, can we please proceed with why we're actually here?"

Yin practically ran to his desk, pulling out a leather portfolio with fingers that still trembled. He spread documents across the polished surface, his professional mask trying desperately to reassemble itself despite the cracks.

"The confusion," Yin began, his voice unsteady, "was entirely my fault. I was so nervous about meeting the heir that I didn't properly review the machine's instructions. The specialized Blackwell scanner shows RED for positive identification, opposite of standard biometric devices. It's a security measure, but in my anxiety, I... I forgot."

"You forgot." Rufus's tone made clear what he thought of that excuse.

"Yes, sir. I'm sorry, sir." Yin cleared his throat. "But the identification is confirmed now. Alexander Blackwell, seventy percent controlling heir to the Blackwell estate." He opened the first document. "Shall we proceed with the asset disclosure?"

Alex moved to the desk, his heart pounding. Everything his grandfather had left him was about to become real.

Yin's fingers traced down columns of numbers, his professional demeanor gradually returning. "Your grandfather was very particular about discretion. The physical assets—cash, bonds, precious metals, gemstones—are stored in private underground facilities, not traditional banks. This ensures complete privacy and protection from market fluctuations or government oversight."

"How much?" Alex's voice came out hoarse.

Yin met his eyes. "The current valuation of your seventy percent share of physical assets is approximately eighty billion dollars."

The number hit Alex like a physical blow. His legs went weak. Eighty billion. Not million. BILLION.

"Eighty..." He couldn't finish the sentence.

"Billion." Yin confirmed. "In various forms—forty-two billion in cash across multiple currencies, twenty-three billion in gold and platinum reserves, fifteen billion in bonds and securities. All completely liquid and accessible with your authorization."

Alex grabbed the edge of the desk for support. His entire world had been measured in hundreds of dollars just days ago. Now...

"There's more," Rufus said quietly, his expression darkening with bitterness. "But first, you need to understand something, Alexander. That eighty billion? Years ago, when your father was still alive, the family fortune was worth over EIGHT HUNDRED BILLION."

Alex's head snapped up. "What?"

"Your uncles and aunt—those parasites who carry the Blackwell name—they've been bleeding the company dry for two decades." Rufus's hands clenched into fists. "Tia invested in worthless ventures and lost billions. Andrew gambled away entire subsidiaries in his casino addiction. Mabel used company funds like her personal shopping account. They nearly BANKRUPTED one of the most powerful families on the continent."

"How is that possible? Didn't Grandfather stop them?"

"Your grandfather was distracted by grief and guilt over the situation with your father." Rufus's voice turned bitter as acid. "By the time he realized what was happening, they'd already destroyed ninety percent of the empire. What you're inheriting now? It's the scraped-together remnants of something that used to shake nations."

The revelation settled over Alex like a heavy cloak. His inheritance wasn't just wealth—it was the ruins of something far greater, nearly destroyed by the greed of cockroaches wearing crowns.

Yin pulled out another document, this one sealed with red wax. "There's more, young master. Your grandfather wanted you to have this separately."

Rufus took the document, breaking the seal with careful fingers. His eyes scanned the contents, and something like satisfaction crossed his face.

"Your father knew they were destroying everything." Rufus handed the document to Alex. "So he built his own empire. Completely separate from the Blackwell companies. Using his own genius and connections, he created a network of businesses, investments, and assets that your greedy relatives could never touch."

"How much?" Alex asked, though he almost feared the answer.

"Fifty billion dollars. In pure cash reserves."

Alex's knees actually buckled this time. He sat heavily in one of Yin's leather chairs, the numbers spinning through his mind like a fever dream. One hundred and thirty billion dollars total. More money than some countries possessed.

"Your father," Rufus continued, his voice thick with emotion, "anticipated their corruption. He knew they'd try to destroy the Blackwell legacy. So he protected a piece of it—for you. He built this entirely independently, and he left instructions." Rufus pulled out a sealed letter. "He wanted you to use both inheritances—his and your grandfather's—to restore what the family once was. To protect his life's work from the insects who nearly consumed everything."

Alex held the letter with trembling hands, his father's handwriting visible through the translucent envelope. One hundred and thirty billion dollars. The weight of it pressed down on him like a physical thing—not just the money, but the responsibility, the legacy, the expectations of ghosts.