Chapter 5: The Hidden Heir.

The rain had stopped, but the streets glistened with moisture, reflecting the dim light of the streetlamps. His thoughts were filled with questions and emotions. Could this actually be happening? 

The car came to a halt as the gates automatically swung open, and they drove down a long, manicured driveway lined with tall oak trees. 

The moment Rowland saw the Fence Family mansion clearly, his breath caught in his throat. It was huge, with a wide balcony supported by tall pillars that made it resemble a palace rather than a house.  It was unlike anything he had ever seen in his life. 

The vehicle came to a stop in front of the main entrance. Edward held the door open for Rowland as he, Daniel, and Marcus got out first. 

"Master Rowland, this way," Edward said, bending slightly. 

Rowland paused for a moment before stepping outside, feeling the weight of his wet clothes and the cool night air. 

The enormous wooden doors opened as they arrived at the entrance. Rowland was astounded by what he saw when he entered. He was greeted by a large foyer with sparkling marble floors illuminated by chandeliers. A magnificent staircase wound its way up to the second floor, and the walls were covered in priceless tapestries and paintings. 

He saw servants standing in tidy rows everywhere he turned to look, heads bowed in submission. When Rowland entered, they bowed even lower and murmured, 

"Master Rowland, welcome home." 

Rowland's shocked eyes grew wider.He turned to see Edward standing next to him after sensing a hand on his shoulder. 

"Master Rowland, please come with us to the drawing room. Your parents are eager to see you." 

With a nod, Rowland acknowledged. They led him down a series of lavishly decorated corridors, past rooms adorned with antique furniture, grand pianos, and ornate sculptures. They finally came to a stop in front of two sizable doors. 

When Edward gently knocked, a voice from within said, "Come in." 

The doors opened to a large drawing room with vaulted ceilings, a blazing fireplace, and large windows looking out onto the gardens. A man and a woman in tasteful but modest attire were seated on a soft sofa. 

When the woman saw Rowland, her hands began to shake and her eyes began to well up with tears. 

"Rowland?" Her voice was choked with emotion as she whispered. "Is that you, really?"

Rowland felt a knot rise in his throat as he took a deep breath. With a voice hardly audible above a whisper, he answered, "Yes... I am Rowland." 

With a look that blended doubt and hope, the man got to his feet. "We have been waiting for this day for a very long time," he sobbed. "This is Eleanor, my wife, and my name is Charles Fence. "We...we are your parents."

Rowland felt that the ground beneath him had shifted. His parents? He had been raised with the belief that he was an unwanted orphan. He was unaware that he was Mr. and Mrs. Fence's real son. 

With tearful eyes, Eleanor took a step forward. "Rowland, we lost you. On your birth day, you were taken from us. At the hospital, there was an error involving you and Clinton.”

Charles went on, emotion still evident in his voice. "Twenty-seven years later, a doctor discovered the error and began collecting blood samples from every male who entered the hospital for any reason. It was you, Rowland, that they discovered as a match. You were our son, but we never knew."

Rowland's thoughts were racing. He recalled the day he had visited the hospital, the peculiar looks he had received from the personnel, and the card they had given him afterwards. Previously, he had written it off as a joke or an error, but now everything made sense. 

"Why now?" he questioned, his voice racked with hurt and confusion. "What kept you from finding me sooner?"

Eleanor's expression twisted as she inched forward, extending her hand as though to make contact with him. "We did try, Rowland, I assure you of it. However, they informed us that you had vanished because the medical records had been altered. We had no reason to believe otherwise until this new information came to light."

Rowland followed his gaze from Eleanor to Charles, observing the sincerity and pain in their eyes. Anger, bewilderment, incredulity, and a glimmer of hope were mixed together in an odd way inside him. 

"And how about the people who raised me? The people who found me?"

Charles responded with a nod. "All we are aware of is Grandpa Jones," he uttered quietly. "We have read the reports. He took you in and provided you with a home when we were unable to. Rowland, we owe him a huge debt. And we are willing to go to any length to repay that."

Rowland's eyes welled up with tears when he thought of Grandpa Jones, the man who had taken him in when no one else would, and who loved him like he was his own grandson. 

"Grandpa Jones did everything for me," Rowland said, his voice breaking. "After he died, the Jones family turned against me. I was thrown out by them.”

With a gasp, Eleanor covered her mouth with her hand. "Oh, Rowland, we did not know. We are truly sorry."

Charles's expression grew determined. "The Jones family will pay for how they treated you if that is true. We have a lot of power and influence over them and their company, Rowland, and we will use it to make things right."

Rowland felt a wave of rage and shook his head. 

"No," he firmly replied. "I do not want to punish them just yet. I want them to believe they have won. I want to demonstrate to Clinton and the others what it is like to be despised and ignored like trash. I want them to know how it feels to lose everything.”

A look of understanding passed between Eleanor and Charles as they looked at each other. "If that is what you want, Rowland," Charles said slowly, "we will follow your wishes. But know that you are our son, our only heir, and that everything we own is no longer Clinton's, but yours."

A strange feeling of fear mixed with pride awoke in Rowland's chest. It was shocking to hear that he had a family, a legacy, and a respected name after spending his entire life alone and struggling to survive. 

After a lengthy silence, Rowland stated, "I want to keep my identity hidden. For the time being, at least. I want to forge my own path and find my own route. And I will disclose my true identity when the time is appropriate.”

Eleanor nodded, tears gleaming in her eyes. "Rowland, we will help you with anything you decide to pursue. But please stay with us for a while. Get to know us, and we will get to know you."

With hesitation, Rowland surveyed the room, taking in the splendor and extravagance all around him as well as the individuals who had bowed to him. 

He had never imagined living in this world and was not sure if he belonged there. However, a part of him also yearned for more information to comprehend this family that had spent so much time looking for him.

"Okay," he eventually replied. "I will stay, mom. For a short while only. "I need to figure things out."

With a tiny cry of relief, Eleanor reached for his hand. "Rowland, thank you. We have been waiting so long for this moment."

Charles moved forward, revealing an uncommon grin on his face. "Welcome home, Son." 

Rowland experienced a strange warmth that he had not felt in a long time. Perhaps he had found a place where he belonged. In addition, he now possesses power.