The Poor Student Turns Out To Be A Second Generation Heir!

Chapter 2: Strange Phone Call

Before Lawrence could even speak, Micheal, sprawled lazily on the sofa with a smug grin, sneered first. His face still held that twisted look of satisfaction, as though he was replaying Lucy’s betrayal in his head.

“Damn you, Mike! I’ll kill you right here!”

Lawrence snapped as he jumped towards Micheal with his fist smashing into Micheal’s nose with all his strength.

Bam!

Blood spurted instantly as Micheal staggered, touching his face in shock, and when he saw his hand smeared with his blood, his expression instantly turn into rage.

“You dare hit me? If I don’t cripple you today, I’ll take your damn surname!”

He lunged at Lawrence like a mad dog, while Lawrence’s physique was decent, Micheal wasn’t just any spoiled rich brat, he was a trained boxer, second place in a city-level competition which gives him battle experience. Within seconds, Lawrence was on the ground, unable to resist. All he could do was curl up, shielding his head, taking punch after punch from Micheal.

“You poor bastard! You actually dared to touch me? Weren’t you so tough a moment ago? Stand up! Hit me again! Pathetic loser, no wonder your woman couldn’t stand staying with trash like you! Even a dog life is better than yours!”

Each word landed harder than Micheal’s fists as he kept throwing blow after blow mixed with curse after curse.

Finally, even Micheal’s breath grew ragged, his fists slowing while Lawrence lay battered and silent, his body curled like a wounded being.

“That’s enough, bae. Don’t kill him,” Lucy’s sweet voice cut in. “If he dies, it’s not worth the trouble for you. Prison would ruin your future—and my life too since I will miss you.”

Her words weren’t born of pity for Lawrence. She simply feared losing her golden ticket if Micheal goes to prison.

Micheal paused, panting heavily. He wasn’t afraid of murder after all, his family could pay off any problem. But he was tired, and Lawrence wasn’t even worth the effort anymore.

Grabbing Lawrence’s hair, Micheal yanked his bloodied face up close.

“Listen, Lucy is my woman now. Stay the hell away from her. If I even hear you breathed in her direction, I’ll kill you for real.”

Then he slammed Lawrence’s head into the ground. Leaning close to his ear, he whispered coldly, “Want to know something funny? I brought Lucy here on purpose. I knew you worked in this bar. I wanted you to walk in and see us. Your facial expression was worth every second of this plan.”

He kicked Lawrence hard in the ribs, sending him sprawling.

“Come on, honey,” Lucy cooed, clinging to Micheal’s arm. “Don’t waste your time with him. Let’s get a room and finish what we started. I learned a few new moves… you’ll love them.”

She pressed her body against Micheal, her eyes glimmering with desire. For him, she studied tricks from p**n videos every day, desperate to keep his attention.

Micheal laughed, squeezing her waist. “Such a slut. Can’t even wait, huh? Don’t worry, keep serving me well and that bag you wanted earlier, it’s yours.”

The two of them strolled out together, laughing, their voices dripping with mockery, leaving Lawrence crumpled on the floor.

Lawrence’s heart bled in pain hearing their words while his body was bruised and broken, but that wasn’t what crushed him—it was Lucy. His Lucy. The woman who once blushed if he held her hand was now begging another man to take her to bed for a mere handbag.

He had loved her for more than a year. He had sacrificed, worked nights, given her every cent he had, and never once demanded her body. And yet she gave herself so easily to Micheal.

The pain was unbearable.

Slowly, shaking, Lawrence pushed himself to his feet and stumbled out of the private room.

But Micheal’s cruelty didn’t stop there. Not long after, Lawrence was handed a dismissal notice. The bar deducted his salary to cover the cost of the smashed champagne and for fighting a customer for nothing.

In a single night, he lost his girlfriend, his pride, and his job. Misery piled on misery.

As he walked home under the dim streetlights with pain in his heart, his phone suddenly buzzed in his pocket., checking it, he saw an unfamiliar number.

Lawrence frowned but answered. “Hello? Who is this?”

A calm, old voice replied, “Hello, Young Master. I am the butler of the Sterling family. I—”

Lawrence cut him off immediately. “Wrong number. I’m no young master. I’m just an orphan, this Microsoft Pajeet are changing their style.” He hung up, scoffing. Another scam. Couldn’t they at least try to be convincing?

The phone rang again and without hesitation he rejected it.

It rang a third time and he rejected again. Again. And again. Lawrence’s patience snapped after more than six called. He picked up and barked, “Are you insane? I told you, I’m not some damn young master. I’m broke! Stop harassing me! I don't even have money for you to scam me of!”

He was about to hang up when the voice on the other end rushed out, “Young Master, wait. Please don’t hang up. Your name is Lawrence Sterling. You grew up in the NewDay Orphanage. You were born November 15, 2004. Right now, you live in Block 11-2 of Chinua Neighborhood, Nanchang Road. You have a girlfriend called Lucy… who just cheated on you and broke up with you.”

Lawrence froze as shockingly every detail was… correct.

His grip tightened on the phone, eyes darting around wildly. Was this some sick prank? A hidden camera show?

Scams were one thing, but how did they know Lucy had just betrayed him?

He searched every corner of the street, but there were no cameras. No shadows following him. The voice continued, steady and patient.

“Young Master, I know you doubt me, but every word is true. You are the heir of the Sterling family, the number one family in the world. The Sterlings control sixty percent of the global economy. Real estate, jewelry, electronics, hotels, finance—everywhere you look, our businesses dominate. Even the luxury shops you pass by daily belong to us. And you… you are the sole heir to it all.”

The old man rattled off industry after industry.

Lawrence’s blood boiled. “Sixty percent of the world’s economy? Are you mocking me? At least make your scam believable!”

“I haven’t calculated the exact numbers, Young Master,” the butler replied calmly. “But the total should be in the trillions.”

Those words struck Lawrence’s ears like thunder.