The True Heir Returns

The sitting room of the Styles mansion smelled of expensive jasmine and cold silence.Reginald Styles sat at the head of the table, his jaw tight, his fingers drumming against the armrest. He hadn't spoken in five minutes, and the weight of his silence pressed down on everyone in the room.Giselle broke it first."Father, this is absurd." She tossed her platinum hair over her shoulder, her designer heels tapping impatiently against the floor. "You can't actually bring him here. What will people say?"Evangeline folded her arms, her painted lips curling into a sneer. "The media already had their fun mocking us when that wretched woman went to prison. Now we're supposed to parade her replacement through our front door? He grew up in the countryside, Father. He probably doesn't even know which fork to use at dinner."Beatrice, the youngest, added her voice with a petulant whine. "I won't share a roof with some... some farmer. My friends will never let me live it down. They already think

The west wing guest room was exactly as the book described.Anthony dropped his duffle bag on the floor and surveyed his new prison. A single bed with thin, scratchy sheets. A wooden desk that wobbled on uneven legs. A window with a hairline crack running through the glass, letting in a faint draft. And the lock. A cheap object that any determined person could pick with a paperclip.Jonathan knows about this lock, Anthony thought, running his fingers over the scratched metal. He's used it before. In the book, he locked the real Anthony in here the night before the press conference. Left him to rot while he charmed the reporters.He checked the window frame. His eyes swept the ceiling corners, the baseboards, the electrical outlet near the desk.There.Behind the desk, almost invisible against the wallpaper, a tiny pinhole camera. Jonathan had planted it weeks ago, long before Anthony's arrival. He'd wanted to monitor the "country boy" from day one, hoping to catch him crying, talking

Three days passed.Anthony kept his head down, attending family dinners, smiling for the occasional photographer who lurked outside the gates, and quietly building his network. He acquired another 5% of Styles Industries through a shell company, bringing his total to 15%. Enough to be noticed. Enough to be dangerous.Jonathan walked around like a ghost. His smiles were strained. His eyes darted everywhere. He'd stopped sleeping. The servants whispered about him pacing the halls at 3 AM, muttering to himself.And then she arrived.Carmen Hayes.Anthony stood at the grand entrance as a sleek white Mercedes pulled up the driveway. His face remained calm, but inside, something twisted.The original Anthony loved her, he thought. Loved her with every pathetic, desperate fiber of his being. He'd have given her everything. They were still dating, never broke up yet and here she was. She gave him nothing but lies.The door opened, and Carmen stepped out.She was stunning with her long dark

Two days passed.Anthony kept his head down, attending meetings, reading reports, and quietly building his network. He'd made another acquisition. A small logistics company that would eventually feed into his larger plan. But he kept it hidden. The Styles family didn't need to know everything.They were too busy planning his humiliation.Jonathan's secret meeting with Apex Industries happened on a Thursday night.Carmen, trembling, had slipped a recording device into Jonathan's jacket pocket before he left. She'd practiced the motion a dozen times, acting casual, loving, brushing a piece of lint off his lapel."You look so handsome," she'd cooed. "I'm so proud of you."Jonathan had smiled, kissed her forehead, and walked out the door.Now Anthony sat in his west wing room, headphones on, listening to the recording.Jonathan's voice crackled through the speakers. "The deal needs to happen now. My father is suspicious. And the new brother—he's more dangerous than I thought."A gruff vo

The mansion had become a prison. Anthony woke each morning to cold silence. The servants avoided him. The sisters glared at him. Vivica refused to be in the same room. And Reginald had transformed from distant father to active enemy.The board meetings were the worst.Anthony sat at the conference table, his documents spread before him. The other board members shifted uncomfortably. Reginald sat at the head, his face carved from stone."I propose we reject the new logistics partnership," Reginald announced. "The risk is too high."Anthony looked up. "Father, I analyzed the numbers. The partnership would increase our efficiency by twenty percent. The risk is minimal.""I said no." Reginald's voice was ice. "My decision is final."Marcus Webb, seated as a guest observer, smirked. "Maybe the country boy doesn't understand how business works. Sometimes you have to listen to your elders."Jonathan, watching via video call from his bed, smiled. "Father knows best, Anthony. You should trust