2025-05-08 19:36:23The slap still echoed in Chance’s ears when the female attendant who had landed the second one dropped to her knees, joined swiftly by the security guards. But none of it was for him. Instead, all their attention was turned to the sharply dressed young man Chance recognized with a jolt—Rickon Sander.
Rickon, one of ESU’s most toxic elites, was grinning with all the arrogance of old money and unchecked power. The bank director, a man in his late fifties, came rushing in, clearly agitated, and practically stumbled into a bow. “Mr. Sander, our deepest apologies.”
Rickon waved it off, eyes twinkling as he stole a glance at Chance, who was still rubbing his cheek. "No need," he said, voice thick with mockery. “Slapping a pauper feels therapeutic. I might just make it a habit.”
Rickon felt glad the minute he recognized that it was Chance he’d slapped. He hated the guy's guts. In fact, he wanted to slap him again. Chance’s existence irritated him to no end. He was a nobody and didn’t deserve to grace the same hallways as someone like him. Yet Chance was in his school. If it was up to him, he would do everything to make the guy’s life as hellish as possible, since he wouldn’t stay in his lane.
Chance bit the inside of his cheek, eyes burning with humiliation but not a word escaping his lips. He wouldn't give Rickon the satisfaction. Rickon strutted past him, laughing with the attendant as he walked out of the bank. But Chance made a silent promise: Rickon would pay for this. And soon.
The bank manager turned sharply to Chance, face clouded. "Do you realize who you just offended? That was Matthew Sanders’ son! A man worth $10 billion dollars! That young man just walked out of here with a premium card, which you obviously cannot afford!"
Chance raised his chin and replied evenly, "And do you know who I am?”
A disgusted look came over the director’s face. He turned to the guards.
“Please take this peasant out of here.”
Chance struggled with the merciless guards.
“I am Chance O’Connor! Son of Steven O’Connor!" He called out when it was obvious no one would listen to him otherwise.
The room fell silent. Even the buzz of the overhead light seemed to stop.
The director blinked, holding up his hand for the guards to stop, momentarily disoriented. "What did you say?"
Chance reached into his pocket and brought out the heirloom—the ancient yet radiant ring that shimmered with the seal of the O'Connor family.
The manager stared, stunned. Then he stepped closer, adjusting his glasses, and inspected the ring with trembling hands. Could it really be?
"Follow me. Now." He demanded of Chance, beckoning to him as he began walking off briskly to the private elevator that led to his office.
They moved through a restricted corridor into the executive wing of Eagleswood Central Bank. The office they entered was lavish, filled with dark oak, sleek tech, and the scent of wealth.
The director, who now introduced himself as Michael Goodman, offered Chance a seat. "There was a rumour that the late tycoon had a secret marriage and child with the now congresswoman Julia Franklin. You’re telling me it’s true?"
Chance nodded.
Michael leaned back, hand over his chest. "God help me. That makes you the sole heir to the greatest fortune in existence."
Chance didn’t say anything, just stared at Michael Goodman with the eyes of a man who had been treated unjustly and knew how to get his own back.
Michael leaned forward, his Adam’s apple bobbing up and down. “Mr. O’Connor, I trust you understand that my reaction earlier was born out of ignorance, and I would never disrespect you in any way. I apologize deeply, sir.”
Chance could barely contain the satisfaction he got from that apology. He was the boss now and would be treated as such.
“I assure you, Rickon Sanders will be dealt with for how he treated you. He will not go unpunished.”
Chance breathed in the air of power, having finally attained his true identity. For a moment, he thought to himself why his mother didn’t introduce him to his true identity before now. He wouldn’t have suffered all the humiliations and bullying from Roy and Vinita. Here was the manager of one of the most powerful banks in the country bowing and apologizing to him; it felt good.
Chance nodded slowly, maintaining composure. “That’s fine.”
Michael reached into a concealed drawer and pulled out a glimmering briefcase unlike any Chance had seen. It sparkled unnaturally.
"This," Michael said with reverence, "is made from the largest diamond ever discovered. Worth ten billion on its own. It's a symbol of status, Mr. O'Connor. Only the richest man in the world may carry it."
He pulled out a slim scanner and gestured for Chance to offer a DNA sample. With a prick of his finger, it was done. The briefcase clicked softly, then opened. It was irrevocable proof of Chance’s identity.
Inside lay a matte-black premium card, a symbol of absolute financial authority, along with stacks of documents.
Chance skimmed through them.
Five hundred billion dollars in liquid assets.
Sixty percent stakes in the Banking, Technology, Real Estate, and Automobile Empires.
His father had owned everything.
Michael nodded, reading the stunned silence on Chance’s face. “This bank—Eagleswood Central Bank—is technically yours now. Part of your father’s holdings in the Banking Empire. You are his only heir."
Chance transferred thirty billion dollars to his personal account, held the premium card in his hands, and stood.
Michael opened the door and addressed all the staff gathered outside. "This young man is Chance O'Connor. From today, every person in this building will treat him with the honor and respect due to the heir of Steven O'Connor."
Chance turned to the female attendant who had slapped him earlier. "You're fired."
Michael didn't hesitate. "Pack your things. You're done."
The attendant burst into tears, but no one moved to help her.
Power. Real power. It surged through Chance like electricity.
For the first time in a long while, Chance felt a taste of real power again. All these years since he left his mother, he had become powerless and oppressed by almost everyone. Now, he had so much power, no one could challenge him nor treat him poorly again, and it felt so good to be that powerful. Chance left the bank with so much pride; driving his car out of the bank, he gave thought to Vinita, the girl he loved who now turned against him because of a $500,000 car.
He walked out of the bank with a new identity, a new reality.
Michael followed him to the car, the Bentley Escapade gleaming like a gemstone in the sunlight.
Chance got in and pulled away slowly, letting the moment sink in.
He thought of Vinita. Of Roy. Of Courtney. Of everyone who had mocked him.
He could now afford the company that manufactured the car Vinita had abandoned him over. And that was just the beginning.
Elite Society University was not ready for Chance O’Connor.
Not even close.
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Chapter 354
Harry watched the standoff, his own plan crumbling. He had envisioned a clean, if dangerous, extraction: two hostages out, one tragic loss. A brutal calculus he could maybe live with. But this stubborn, interconnected refusal to abandon one of their own was something else entirely. It was the antithesis of the cold, transactional world he'd lived in since he returned to start living with Richard.He saw the resolve in Wilfreda's eyes, a mirror of the fierce defiance he remembered from the café. He saw the terrified courage in Janelle's, a loyalty that transcended self-preservation. They were a unit, and in that moment, it felt as though breaking them, even for their own good, was just another kind of violation.A heavy sigh, born of exhaustion and a sudden, shocking admiration, escaped him. The keys felt like lead in his hand.The path of least resistance, the coward's path, he now saw, was to insist, to force Janelle out. But looking at these two women, one his cousin, one a strang
Chapter 353
Time lost all meaning in the windowless cell. It could have been minutes or hours since Helsin was taken. The silence was a living thing, pressing in on them, broken only by Janelle’s occasional, shuddering breaths and the distant, indeterminate hum of the building’s machinery.Wilfreda held Janelle, her own mind a tempest of dread and furious, impotent planning. Every footstep in the corridor outside sent a fresh jolt of terror through them, each one a potential herald of their own doom.Having watched Helsin being dragged away earlier had really done something to them psychologically, and even if they didn't really want to admit it, both of them were already afraid that something bad might have happened to them, and that one of them would be next in line.Then, a new sound. Not the usual heavy, synchronized tread of the guards. This was lighter, quicker. A single set of footsteps, approaching with a strange urgency. They stopped right outside their cell.A key scraped in the lock.J
Chapter 352
Philip didn’t bother to answer with words, and that was because words had caused enough trouble tonight. Instead, he cupped her face, his thumbs stroking her cheeks, and leaned in.This kiss was different from the one before. That had been a promise, a seal on a vow. This one was an answer. It was deep, claiming, and breathtaking in its intensity. It held fifteen years of shared history, the terror of nearly losing her, the fierce joy of being chosen, and the absolute certainty of his own devotion. It was a silent, powerful rebuttal to every one of his foolish fears and a playful retaliation to her tease.When they finally parted, both were breathless. Julia’s eyes were shining, all traces of anger and sadness replaced by a luminous warmth. Philip rested his forehead against hers, their breaths mingling.“I think,” he murmured, his voice husky with emotion, “that should answer your question.”“It does,” Julia whispered, her smile soft and sure. “And just for the record, it answers y
Chapter 351
Philip held Julia's gaze, the depth of his love warring with a vulnerability he rarely showed. Her hands on his face were an anchor, but the question burning in his chest felt like a tide trying to pull him out to sea. He took a shaky breath."Julia," he began, his voice barely above a whisper, the words feeling both foreign and essential. "Do you love me?"The question landed in the quiet room with the force of a physical blow. Julia's hands stilled on his cheeks. Her eyes, so full of concern a moment before, widened in pure, uncomprehending shock. She pulled back slightly, creating a space between them that felt suddenly vast."Why are you asking such a question?" Her voice was low, edged with a hurt that was sharper than anger. "Philip, we've been married for over fifteen years. Our life, our family, everything we've built... do you honestly believe any of that could exist without love?"The raw confusion in her eyes was more painful than any accusation. Philip instantly regretted
Chapter 350
Helsin had finally come to accept her fate in the cell where she had now found herself. She was done wallowing in her ordeal, and tonight, she had decided to turn her pain into strength by telling Wilfreda and Janelle a story.And so, with her sharp eyes that missed nothing and a posture that spoke of enduring many storms, she told the same old story—the legend about the relics, about guardians and betrayals. To her, it was a way to pass the time, to keep their minds from the gnawing fear. Janelle, wrapped in a thin blanket, listened with rapt attention, her fear momentarily held at bay by the tale. Wilfreda, on the other hand, held her gaze which seemed to be distant and tracing the patterns in the dust on the floor, her thoughts clearly elsewhere as this was a story she had heard time and time again.Just then, the door at the end of the corridor clanged open, the sound echoing like a death knell. Booted footsteps, purposeful and grim, approached their cell.All three women became
Chapter 349
Harry moved silently through the east wing of his father’s estate, a nagging sense of unease gnawing at him since the disastrous courtroom day.His father, Richard, and his uncle, Robert had been sequestered in the study for hours. The usual hum of the house was muted, servants dismissed under the guise of ‘family business.’Driven by a dread he couldn’t name, Harry paused outside the study’s doors. The murmur of voices was low and urgent as he leaned closer, his ear almost touching the polished wood.“...a liability we can no longer afford,” Robert’s voice, usually so smooth and controlled, was edged with a finality that made Harry’s blood run cold. “Helsin and Wilfreda know the entire provenance chain. They can trace the stones from the mine to our books. And the girl, Janelle… she heard things while she was with us. She’s a witness Flynn would move heaven and earth to protect. They can’t be allowed to live. Not after this.”There was a beat of silence as Harry held his breath, pre
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