The Urban God Of Riverdale

Chapter 8: The Heiress Struggle 1

"What's there to hear? My first loyal dog gave me that to wear before she left the country.

And my second loyal dog brought the same thing. Seems you both had something in common—being thieves—or you were just a player." She laughed.

Those words rang deep inside Rowen's head, and his temples throbbed.

It wasn't from rage, pain, or disappointment. He couldn't even place what it was—just an ancient, hollow twist in his stomach that set every part of his body on fire.

Burning so intensely that his eyes turned bloodshot.

Now the truth lay bare before him.

All this time he had stayed despite Emma's abuse because he believed he was repaying her for saving his life during that crash that took his mother's life—when she had hidden him with a kiss as the assassins attacked, when she had stopped his bleeding wound.

Back then, he had seen her as his savior, someone he would do anything for. All this while, it turned out he had been completely wrong.

Rowen's hands tightened at his sides as the realization struck him harder than any blow could have.

But he forced himself to stay in control.

"Thanks for telling me," he said quietly.

"At least you've freed me from a great deal of pain."

Emma screamed and hurled curses at his back as he walked away.

Rowen didn't turn around once to spare her a glance.

Thought after thought burned through his mind as he put distance between himself and that place. And worse, he couldn't stop thinking about the girl who had actually saved him that night—the one Emma had mentioned cutting off once she had no further use for her.

Then his phone rang, slicing through his thoughts. When he checked the caller ID, his expression darkened almost instantly.

It was his grandfather.

He had known the old man would call the moment news reached him. He just hadn't expected it to be this soon.

He squared his shoulders and drew in a slow, steady breath before answering.

Before he could even greet him, his grandfather's voice burst through the speaker wrapped in thunderous laughter—so unrestrained it sounded like the old man was rolling on the floor somewhere.

Rowen's hand tightened around the phone. He was carrying enough weight already, and the old man still found it all amusing—as always.

Then again, he reasoned, perhaps he deserved to be laughed at. He had been a fool for far too long.

"Now that you're no longer shackled to that witch, I trust you can finally get to work as the heir of this family?" his grandfather said.

And before Rowen could even draw breath to respond, more words came through the line.

"I've already arranged for Mr. Kevin to meet you at Royal Hills Hotel."

Rowen exhaled sharply, and he could practically feel his grandfather raising a brow on the other end.

"Is there something you want to say, boy?" his grandfather asked.

Rowen paused. Even before Emma, he had never been drawn to the corporate world. But after everything he had been exposed to, he understood clearly that the world revolved around power. And if he wanted to be successful, he had to embrace his identity.

"I was just going to say I'll get it done," he replied.

"Good. And spare me the pleasantries—I'm still furious that you abandoned an old man to fend for himself just because you were chasing after a woman, and you still couldn't even produce a grandchild. Pathetic!"

The line went dead without warning, leaving Rowen staring at the screen with a wry twist to his lips.

As much as it stung, the old man wasn't entirely wrong.

Emma had refused any intimacy throughout their entire marriage. She always had an excuse—too busy, too tired. She would remind him that her body was her own and she would share it only when she was ready, urging him to be patient.

And in his blindness, he had supported her. He truly had been pathetic.

Since the hotel for the meeting was just ahead, Rowen walked there despite being thirty minutes early.

The moment he stepped inside, he caught the subtle shift in the receptionists' expressions as their gazes flicked over his plain clothes, quickly assessing his perceived status.

The place had an ambiance that was not only breathtaking but surreal. The architecture carried elegant, sweeping lines with perfect marble structures rising like cascading waterfalls. It was exactly his grandfather's taste—always choosing the finest venues for occasions like this.

"Is there something we can help you with?" one of them asked.

"I'll be waiting for Iren," he replied.

Their eyes widened for a fraction of a second before they masked it behind practiced professionalism.

One of them stepped out from behind the desk and led him to his seat.

But he didn't escape the weight of curious stares from various corners of the lobby, eyes boring into him with thinly veiled disdain.

In a place like this, people expected only elites and distinguished personalities. The caliber of the guests was part of the atmosphere itself, and someone like Rowen had no business being here.

Or so they thought.

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Just ahead, a sharp sound broke through the ambient murmur and a commotion erupted, loud enough that Rowen couldn't help but look up.

A stunning woman moved through the space—beautiful enough to steal the breath of any man, even someone as composed as Rowen.

Her curves flowed in perfect proportions, the line from her waist to her hips enough to linger in anyone's imagination long after she had passed. Her skin was luminous, and she carried herself with natural, effortless allure that required no performance.

From her bearing and the understated refinement of her clothing, it was clear she had been raised in old money, if not outright royalty.

But she was struggling.

A tall, heavily built man covered in tattoos had positioned himself in her path, his gold teeth catching the light as he spoke.

Everyone around them looked away, and so did Rowen initially. He had no intention of getting tangled in another woman's complications.

"Didn't you hear what I said, Van? Warm my bed for one night and you'll get that contract you want with the Hart family with just a snap of my fingers!"

At the mention of his family name, Rowen's head came up immediately.