The True Heir Returns

Chapter 7: To embarrass him

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 voice responded. "We heard about the lottery win. Fifteen percent of your company. Impressive."

"Fluke. Pure luck. He's still a country idiot. I'll crush him soon enough. But first, the logistics deal. I need the money to secure my position."

"Done. But we want exclusivity. No other partners."

"You'll get it. Just make sure the transfer is complete before the next board meeting. If my father finds out..."

"He won't. We're careful."

The recording ended.

Anthony pulled off the headphones and smiled.

Exclusivity. That's the key. Jonathan is selling the family's crown jewel to Apex, and he's doing it behind everyone's backs.

One phone call, and this deal collapses. But I won't call it yet. I'll let him dig his own grave a little deeper.

He sent Carmen a text: Good work. Keep watching.

Her reply came instantly: When does this end?

Anthony typed back: When Jonathan is destroyed. Patience.

***

The charity gala was the event of the season.

Styles Tower's grand ballroom had been transformed into a glittering wonderland. The city's elite had gathered in their finest gowns and suits, sipping champagne and pretending to care about the cause.

Anthony stood near the back, nursing a glass of water.

He'd worn the same borrowed suit. He could have bought something better because his bank account was now comfortably in the eight figures but that would have raised questions. Better to let them think he was still the poor country boy.

The sisters arrived like a storm.

Giselle swept in on Marcus's arm, her emerald gown trailing behind her. Evangeline followed with Damian, her silver dress catching the light. Beatrice clung to Tristan, giggling at something he'd whispered.

And Jonathan entered with Carmen on his arm.

She wore a stunning ruby-red gown that Anthony knew she'd rented. He also knew she'd maxed out her credit card to afford it. Jonathan, oblivious, beamed at her like she was a goddess.

"I can't believe you're all here," Carmen said, her voice carrying across the room. "This is such an honor. Jonathan's family is so generous with their time and money."

"Of course," Giselle said loudly. "We're not like some people who win a little money and forget their roots."

Beatrice snorted. "He won the lottery. Can you imagine? A country boy with millions? He probably doesn't even know how to open a bank account."

Tristan laughed. "He's probably hiding in his room, counting his pennies."

"He's here," Evangeline said, her voice dripping with false sweetness. "Anthony! Come join us!"

Anthony walked over slowly. He could feel the eyes of the room on him including the pitying glances, the smug smirks.

"A pleasure to see you all," he said calmly.

Marcus stepped forward, his smirk wide. "Anthony, I heard you bought some shares. Lucky timing, right? But I also heard you're still wearing the same suit. Did the lottery money not cover new clothes?"

Damian laughed. "He probably spent it all on a tractor."

The group erupted in laughter. Carmen's face was pale. Jonathan watched with a self-satisfied smile.

Anthony smiled back. "I bought shares. And I'm wearing this suit because it reminds me where I came from. It keeps me humble. I don't need fancy clothes to feel valuable."

Giselle's laugh faltered. "How... noble. And also pathetic."

The gala continued.

Anthony stayed on the periphery, watching. He saw Carmen slip away to the restroom. He saw Jonathan talking to a group of investors, his charm on full display. He saw the sisters circulating, working the room like socialites they'd been trained to be.

And he saw the plan forming.

Giselle approached him, a wicked glint in her eyes. "Anthony, there's something I want to show you. A surprise."

He followed her to a small stage at the front of the room. A microphone stood in the center, and a projector screen hung behind it.

Giselle grabbed the microphone. "Excuse me! Excuse me, everyone! I have a wonderful surprise. My brother, Anthony, wanted to make an announcement tonight. He's been so generous with his winnings, and he's decided to donate a portion of his fortune to tonight's cause!"

The room applauded politely. Anthony felt eyes on him.

Trap, he thought. They want me to embarrass myself. They think I won't have the money to make a meaningful donation. They'll mock me publicly.

He stepped onto the stage.

"Thank you, Giselle. You're right. I did want to make a donation tonight."

Jonathan leaned toward Evangeline. "Watch this. He's about to humiliate himself."

Anthony pulled out his phone and tapped the screen. "I'd like to donate one million dollars to the children's wing of the hospital."

The room went silent.

Then, laughter.

Marcus doubled over. "One million? Where are you getting that kind of money, country boy? Did you find it in your tractor?"

Beatrice wiped tears from her eyes. "He's so desperate for attention! It's embarrassing!"

Even Jonathan, usually cautious, laughed openly. "Anthony, you don't have to pretend. Nobody expects you to donate. Just step down and save yourself the humiliation."

Anthony waited for the laughter to die down.

Then he showed his phone to the event organizer. The screen displayed a completed wire transfer confirmation.

The organizer's eyes went wide. "Mr. Styles, this is... this is real. You've actually donated one million dollars."

The laughter died instantly.

"What?" Giselle's face went white. "That's impossible!"

"A wire transfer," Anthony said calmly. "From my personal account. I got the lottery money, remember?"

"You won ten million," Evangeline sputtered. "That's all you have. You can't afford to give away a million!"

Anthony smiled. "I've made some investments since then. And I'm doing just fine. But I'm not the one who needs to worry about money." He looked directly at Carmen's "parents," who were standing in the corner, looking uncomfortable. "There are people here who are pretending to be something they're not. And I'm not one of them."

Jonathan's eyes flickered to Carmen. She was trembling.

He stepped forward, his voice dripping with false concern. "Anthony, you've had a long night. Let's get you something to eat. You must be exhausted from... all that investing."

The sisters laughed again. They were obviously nervous, uncertain laughter.

Anthony stepped off the stage. "No need. I'm fine. I'm just happy to contribute." He looked at Giselle. "Thank you for the opportunity, sister. It was kind of you to think of me."

Giselle's smile was frozen. She'd wanted to humiliate him. Instead, he'd stolen the spotlight.

Jonathan approached Anthony, his voice a low hiss. "What game are you playing? You can't afford to throw money around like this. You'll bankrupt yourself."

Anthony smiled. "Don't worry about me, brother. I've got more where that came from."

"You're lying. You're bluffing."

"Am I?" Anthony tilted his head. "Check your bank accounts, Jonathan. You might find some surprises."

Jonathan's face went pale. He pulled out his phone, tapping furiously.

Anthony walked away, leaving him to panic.

Later that night, Anthony sat in his room, reviewing his notes.

The gala had been a success. He'd established himself as a legitimate player. The sisters were rattled. Jonathan was paranoid.

And Carmen had sent him a text during the event: Jonathan is furious. He's demanding to know where I was when you made the donation. I told him I was in the restroom. He didn't believe me.

Anthony typed back: Keep lying. Soon it won't matter.

His phone buzzed again. A message from an unknown number: I know what you're doing. And I approve. But be careful. Jonathan has friends in low places. One wrong move, and you'll disappear.

Anthony smiled. He didn't know who sent it. Some ally, some enemy, some bystander who'd noticed the game.

Let them come, he thought. I've already won. They just don't know it yet.