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

Chapter 3: 10 Million Credits

Chapter 3: 10 Million Credits

What the hell did he mean in trillions?!! That's not one trillion but double it or more!

Lawrence’s brain hiccuped as that number felt unreal.

The richest person in the world is only worth 500 billions, he thought. My so called family are equal to hundreds or thousands of the richest people in the worl? The thought was absurd enough to make him laugh out loud, a short, bitter laugh.

“If your family is that rich, why aren’t they on Forbes? And why would they abandon me?” he asked, deliberately baiting the caller to see how the story would be patched together.

“Young Master, the Sterling family is like an adult. A company on Forbes is like a child. Have you ever seen an adult snatch something from a child?” the voice replied, smooth and unbothered as if already expecting that question.

“As for why you were abandoned, this is a family rule. To prevent heirs from becoming profligate, every generation’s heir must live in poverty for twenty years. Until you reach twenty, the family will not contact or aid you. Today is your twentieth birthday, which is why I can reach you. I’ve already sent a card to your address. It should be at your door now. Inside is the ten million dollars I’ve been instructed to give you as pocket money.”

“If you don’t believe me, take the bank card to any branch and check. The balance will give you your answer.”

Lawrence didn’t bother with more words. The explanation was so theatrical it managed to be both ridiculous and compelling. Ten million dollars as “pocket money”?

A family worth tens of trillions playing at prudence?

The idea was laughable and yet the voice sounded confident and practiced. He cut the call off and began the slow walk home.

Because he worked nights and didn’t want to wake his roommate, Lawrence rented a small room by himself. It was modest but contained everything he needed, and it was all his. He had just stepped towards the door when a man in black stood there, holding a yellow box.

“Mr. Lawrence, this is Original International Express. You need to sign for it,” the courier said, respectful and professional.

Original International was an upper-class service; expensive packages and identity checks were the norm. That was why the courier had no trouble recognizing him.

“An international express? For me?” Lawrence asked, puzzled. No one he knew would send him anything like that. A memory of the phone call nudged at him, someone had said a bank card was on its way. Could this be it?

He signed, took the box, and watched the courier leave. Inside the room, he opened the package with a nervous curiosity. The card it contained was black with gold threading and a crown of diamonds printed on its face. If not for the string of numbers and magnetic strip, he might have thought it a luxury credit prop.

He hesitated. The rational part of him scowled at the idea of a scam; the other part, starved of possibility thrummed with an impossible hope. If it was a fake, he’d lost nothing. If it was real, everything would change.

He decided, almost on instinct, to go to the bank.

At an ATM, he made sure to scan the area, to avoid being watched. Then he slid the card into the slot, fingers trembling as he entered a password. Waiting as the machine processed his information.

The display blinked as numbers filled the balance screen. Lawrence read them once, twice, three times, each pass a new denial.

"Fuck!" He couldn't help but swear. Ten million. Ten million dollars stared back at him.

The old man on the phone had not been lying.

Everything in Lawrence mind flipped. One second he was the same poor kid who folded napkins and wiped down countertops; the next second, he held evidence that he might be heir to something vast. The change in identity was surreal, like being yanked through a mirror into a new life he had only dared to dream about in private.

He counted the number again, simply because human brains like confirmation rituals. It was still there, ten million reading immovable on the ATM’s blue glow making his knees to trembled, quickly he walked out of the bank like a man whose legs no longer belonged to him, ignoring the curious stares.

Back in his room, Lawrence felt like sleep has drifted away. The money churned through his head and refused to settle.

Ten million was only “pocket money.” That meant more was coming later. He pictured buying a house and not having to scrub coffee rings out of his jacket. He thought about sleeping late, driving a proper car, and pretending he had always belonged somewhere better.

A laugh bubbled up and nearly escape his mouth at the thought of that but he quickly swallowed it, keeping his profile low. Extravagance wasn’t his nature, and nevertheless he planned for it, privately and greedily.

Lucy cut through the daydream like a cold wind.

She had left him for Micheal because he had no money. And now, if this was the real thing, he had become infinitely richer. Micheal, who used money to buy and discard people, wasn’t even worth the strap on his shoe anymore.

If Lucy had known who he was now, she would have regretted it. The fact that she had given up a possible future with the heir of the Sterlings for a trinket made him feel a fierce, absurd pity. She had traded an entire fortune she could never imagine for a necklace she could not treasure.

His phone rang then, insistent. The name on the screen read Jasmine Ivan, his class mentor. A late call. He frowned but answered.

“Miss Jasmine, hello. Sorry, I didn’t expect calls this late,” he said.

“Lawrence, where are you? Are you all right?” Her voice came soft, edged with worry.

He paused. “I’m at home, Miss Jasmine, is there a problem?”

Relief exhaled through the line. “I came to the bar where you work and learned you’d been fired. I saw Lucy and Micheal together and I feared the worst. I was afraid you might do something rash. I had to call. Are you okay?”

Lawrence listened to Jasmine’s worrying tone and felt a small, guilty warmth. For a moment, the weight of the ten million and the absurdity of the butler’s claim receded into something simpler: concern from someone who’d watched him try.

He didn’t have an answer yet about inheritance, about the Sterling family, or the enormous figure the man had thrown around. But the call of Jasmine’s humanity—grounded him more convincingly than any bank balance could.

He told her he was fine. He lied a little; that was allowed. The world had just shifted under his feet, and the next steps would have to be measured.