From Scorned To Supreme

Chapter 2 Heir

Elijah couldn’t believe what was unfolding before him. Young master? What do they mean by young master? The way hundreds of bodyguards bowed in unison, showing utmost respect, was beyond anything he had ever seen. He had always been invisible, blending into the shadows, unnoticed and unimportant. Yet, here he was, the center of attention in a way he never imagined.

People passing by stopped in their tracks, eyes wide in disbelief, watching the surreal display. Even cars slowed, some drivers rolling down their windows to catch a glimpse of what looked like a scene out of a movie. What was even more baffling was that all this grandeur was directed at someone like him—a man who wore secondhand clothes and barely made ends meet.

Elijah clenched his fists, unsettled by the absurdity of it all. “You must be mistaken,” he said, his voice sharp as he turned to Alfred, the leader of the group. “I think you've got the wrong guy.”

Alfred remained calm, his expression unwavering. “Young master, there is no mistake. You are the one we’ve been searching for.”

Elijah’s pulse quickened. His mind raced, trying to make sense of this. A setup. It had to be. Or maybe it was some elaborate prank. It wouldn’t be the first time he’d been targeted by a cruel joke. The memories of his childhood flooded back—being mocked by other children for being an orphan, laughed at for his threadbare clothes, ignored by teachers who barely bothered to learn his name.

“Look,” Elijah’s patience finally snapped, “I don’t know who the hell you think I am, but I’m not some young master. I’m an orphan, okay? Just... an orphan I am no one! No one.” His voice cracked slightly at the end, bitterness biting through. He had worn that label his entire life. It had been branded on him, leaving scars he couldn’t shake.

Alfred sighed with sincerity in his voice. “I promise you, I am not mistaken.”

You must be delusional, all my life I've grown up with no inheritance, no family and you expect me to believe this nonsense.” All of this was making Elijah’s head turn.

Alfred stood firm, his eyes softening but his stance unwavering. “This is no mistake. You are not merely an orphan. You are the lost heir of the Windsor family.”

Elijah stood completely still, his breath catching in his throat as he read the name. "The Windsor family." The mere mention of it sent shivers down his spine. The Windsors were synonymous with wealth, power, and influence. Their name graced the covers of magazines, their every move followed by whispers in elite business circles. How could it be that he, Elijah, was in any way connected to such an illustrious lineage?

Before Elijah could gather his thoughts, Alfred stepped aside and discreetly plucked a strand of hair from him. Elijah didn’t notice, too absorbed in trying to make sense of the insanity thrown his way.

“Young master,” Alfred said softly, almost with a hint of sympathy, “I know this is difficult to process. But your entire life has been hidden from you. You’re not just anyone. You carry a legacy greater than you can imagine.”

Elijah shook his head furiously. “Legacy? This is insane!” He stormed off, muttering under his breath. “People will believe anything these days.”

The lost Windsor heir? Elijah's mind was spinning. How could they think someone like him—someone who had always been at the bottom—was part of something so grand?

Arriving at the Stone mansion, Elijah’s frustration had only grown. His day had already been a disaster, and now this? Bloody fools, he cursed under his breath as he pushed the door open. The weight of the mansion's cold, lifeless atmosphere greeted him, as it always did.

The moment he stepped inside, Candice’s voice cut through the air like a knife. “Oh, look who finally decided to show up. Strutting around like you own the place,”

she sneered, her tone dripping with venom. “You’d think he was some kind of king with the way he carries himself.”

“So much pride for a man who has nothing to show for it,” Julian added, leaning back in his chair with a smug grin.

“Maybe he thinks he’s worth something now,” he added, his tone mocking. “Pity. No matter how much you walk around like you matter, you’re still just a leech.”

“Elijah,” Candice’s voice dripped with more contempt, “you’re a disgrace to this family. My daughter deserves better than some pathetic orphan who can’t even provide for her.”

Elijah’s eyes swept the room, taking in the sight of the people he had grown to despise. Candice, with her razor-sharp tongue, and Julian, whose arrogance was only matched by his greed. They were vultures, every single one of them, waiting for him to fall so they could pick at the remains.

But then his gaze landed on Eleanor. She sat quietly in the corner, her hands resting gently on her lap, her face a mix of worry and frustration. Unlike the others, Eleanor had never joined in their taunts. In fact, she was the only person in the household who treated him with even a modicum of respect. It wasn’t love—not the kind found in fairy tales—but there was a quiet loyalty between them, a bond formed out of necessity rather than affection.

Their marriage had been arranged, a transaction more than a union. Elijah had known from the start that it wasn’t about love. Eleanor had come from a family that valued wealth and connections above all else, and Elijah, though an orphan, had been seen as useful—at least initially. But even as things soured in the household, Eleanor had never turned against him. She was the only one who hadn’t joined in the chorus of voices tearing him down.

Elijah gave her a small, grateful nod, but she couldn’t meet his gaze for long. Her hands twisted nervously in her lap, a telltale sign that she was uncomfortable. She wanted to speak up, he knew that. But speaking up would make her a target, and she wasn’t strong enough to withstand the blows that would follow. So, she stayed silent, a passive observer in a house filled with hostility.

“Worthless, “Absolutely worthless” “You’re nothing but a burden,” Candice continued, her voice rising. “I’ve been telling you for years—divorce Eleanor. Free her from the misery of being tied to someone like you. Let her marry a real man, someone who can actually take care of her.”

Elijah bit his tongue, swallowing the insults he wanted to hurl back. He had done this dance before. If he opened his mouth now, if he let the anger take control, there would be no going back. He couldn’t afford to lose control—not here, not in front of Eleanor.

Candice wasn’t finished.“Useless,” she spat, each word landing like a slap to the face. “And if you had any decency, you’d leave. But you won’t, will you? You’re too selfish, too weak to let go.”

His jaw clenched so hard it hurt, but he remained silent. It wasn’t for himself. It was for Eleanor. She had been nothing but kind to him in her own quiet way. If he left, if he walked away, she would be left to fend off these vultures on her own.

“Do the dishes, at least,” Candice snapped, her voice rising. “Maybe you’ll be of some use that way. God knows you’re good for nothing else.”

His fists tightened, knuckles white as anger coursed through him. He wanted to throw the dishes across the room, to let them shatter and show them all the rage he had been holding inside for years. But he didn’t. He couldn’t. Stay calm, Elijah. Don’t give them the satisfaction. Don't let her get to you. Knowing he had no other choice but to comply, not for his sake only but also Elaenor’s.

“You’re a disgrace,” Candice continued her voice like nails on a chalkboard. “A curse. If it weren’t for you, my daughter wouldn’t have to suffer this misfortune.”

Before Elijah could respond, Eleanor finally stood, her voice quiet but firm. “Mother, that’s enough.”

The room fell silent, all eyes turning to Eleanor. She rarely spoke up, especially against her family. Her voice was steady, but there was a tremble in her hands as she spoke. She was scared. Scared of her mother, scared of what would happen if she defied her family. But she was speaking up for him.

Candice scoffed, her eyes narrowing as she looked at her daughter. “You defend him? After everything?”

Eleanor met her mother’s gaze, her posture stiff but resolute. “He’s my husband.”

Elijah’s heart twisted painfully at her words. There was no love in her tone, no warmth, although he couldn't tell. But there was loyalty. She was standing by him, even if it wasn’t out of affection. And that was something. In this household, that meant everything.

The clattering of dishes filled the kitchen as Elijah washed in silence, his mind racing. He wasn’t used to this—being defended, even in such a small way. It was a strange feeling, one that left him unsettled and grateful at the same time.

Suddenly, his phone buzzed in his pocket. Wiping his hands, he pulled it out, frowning at the unknown number. Hesitant, he answered. “Hello?”

“Elijah?” The voice on the other end sounded urgent. “You need to come to the hospital immediately. It’s your mother—Esther. She’s collapsed, and they’ve taken her in. It’s serious.” Esther is his foster mother. She was the only one he shared a bond with. She is the reason Elijah knew what the word family meant.

His heart plummeted into his stomach. “What? Is she okay? What happened?” Panic rose in his throat, his mind racing with different emotions that he couldn't tame.

“There were some… complications. Please, come quickly.”

Without a second thought, Elijah bolted out of the house, Candice’s voice chasing after him. “Where do you think you’re going, you worthless ingrate?”

He didn’t stop. He couldn’t. Esther was all he had left. If something happened to her…

When he reached the hospital, his heart pounded so hard it felt like it might burst from his chest. “I need to see Esther,” he said breathlessly to the nurse at the reception. “Please, where is she?”

The nurse barely looked up from her computer, her expression bored, chewing gum irritatedly. “Room 40,” she said, as though it was the most mundane thing in the world.

Elijah sprinted down the hallway, pushing open the door to find his mother lying in the bed, pale and frail, her breathing shallow. The sight of her, so weak and fragile, almost brought tears to his eyes.

*****

Elijah was an incredibly attractive young man who carried himself with confidence and didn’t care what others thought of him. However, in today’s society, it wasn’t physical appearance that defined beauty or class—it was money. No matter how good-looking you were, if you didn’t have wealth, it was as though you were invisible. In fact, one could argue that an “ugly face with a beautiful bank balance” was the true measure of worth.

She was rude all the time, her attitude stinking up every room she entered, but Elijah chose to ignore it—not because he lacked the courage to confront her, but because that wasn’t his focus. Right now, all Elijah cared about was his mother’s well-being.

The sign "ROOM 40" was boldly written on the door. Elijah pushed it open and was met with the sight of Esther’s frail, unconscious body lying on the bed.

Dr. Matthew, the physician in charge, motioned for Elijah to come over. "I assume you’re her son?" he asked. Elijah nodded, his heart heavy with anticipation.

"What’s wrong, Doctor?" Elijah asked, his voice tight with fear. Dr. Matthew sighed deeply, removing his glasses and placing them gently on the desk before clasping his hands together, ready to deliver the grim news.

“I regret to inform you that your mother is suffering from major heart failure. She needs an immediate heart transplant, or she may not survive,” Dr. Matthew said solemnly. The world around Elijah seemed to crumble as the words sank into his mind. Heart failure? The same disease he’d only seen in soap operas?

“We need to act quickly,” the doctor continued. “She’s in a critical condition, and the transplant will cost around forty million dollars. Before we can proceed, you’ll need to make a deposit of at least twenty million dollars.”

Forty million dollars? Elijah’s mind reeled. Where on earth was he supposed to find that kind of money?

After leaving the doctor’s office, Elijah felt lost, unsure of what direction his life would take next. He was devastated, torn between hopelessness and the sheer weight of his mother’s deteriorating condition. In such a short span of time, how could he ever gather such an enormous sum?

He walked back home with his shoulders slumped, his mind in turmoil. When he arrived, the Stones were exactly where he had left them, lounging in the living room. Eleanor noticed immediately that something was off—Elijah wasn’t acting like his usual self. He barely acknowledged anyone as he walked past, his expression grim and robotic, like a man carrying the weight of the world.

Desperate, Elijah did something he had never done before. He pleaded with the patriarch of the family—begged for a favor. He asked them to lend him the money for his mother’s surgery, swearing to pay back every last cent, no matter how long it took.

But the patriarch refused. Instead, he threw a bombshell at Elijah. "I’ll help you, Elijah, but on one condition. If you agree to divorce Eleanor, I’ll not only cover all the costs for Esther’s surgery, but I’ll also have her transferred to a more advanced hospital, with the best doctors available."

Elijah’s heart sank even further. What was he supposed to do now?