Rise of the stolen heir

6

Mason's mouth hung open as they approached the gate of the Lachlan estate, which was a majestic structure of ornate metal work that spoke volumes of how wealthy the Lachlans were. There were lion heads on each of the pillars that held the gate upright.

“Is this where we will be staying?” Ana whispered into Mason's ear, eyes enlarged.

“I guess so,” Mason answered, his eyes still fixed on the wrought iron before them.

He made out an elegant cursive writing of the words, “Lachlan estate,” engraved on the gate.

Anxiety gnawed at his insides as a series of thoughts flooded him. He was dazed, constantly rubbing his eyes to be sure he wasn't dreaming.

Two men, one built and the other one lank, pulled the gate half open and stepped out of the estate.

“Roll down the windows,” Williamas instructed the chauffeur, and all four windows glided down.

Williams and the two men exchanged pleasantries before ordering for the gates to be open. With a loud groaning sound, the gate was pulled open from inside, giving Mason a pleasant view of the palatial building ahead.

The two guards stepped aside, prompting the chauffeur to wind the windows up, and drive into the estate. They rode past elegant houses, and tall trees. The lawns were filled with green shrubs and arrays of flowers.

A house, which appeared to be the biggest, loomed from afar. Shrubs rolled around it with tall trees scattered here and there. Getting closer, Mason noticed it had its on gate, shielding it from the rest of the estate.

The gate opened once their car stopped in front of it. Navigating up the driveway, and pulling short in front of the mansion, Mason's heart skipped a beat as mesmerization washed over him like the waves of an ocean. It was huge, and screamed, “rich!”

One of the guards pulled the door open, and Mason dropped from it. He froze to a spot, scanning the entire environment.

Ana clung to his side, also surveying the area with a gleam of delight in her eyes.

She tugged him. “Are you sure we are not here to work as slaves?” Ana asked with curiosity interwoven in her tone.

Mason shrugged, unable to speak for the first five seconds. He swallowed a deep breath in, revelling in the fresh scent of grass and something sweet.

“I doubt. We just have to wait to find out,” Mason said, and Ana nodded.

“You must be Mason,” A baritone voice said behind Mason, causing him to turn around. “Right?”

The man stood in a black shirt and grey office pants with his hand interlocked behind him.

“Y-Yes,” Mason stuttered, and Ana clung tighter to Mason's shirt, acting scared of the man's huge and intimidating structure.

“I see…” The man eyed Mason from head to toe, and then something which was similar to disgust flashed in his eyes. “I am Calvin, Arthur's assistant.”

Mason's brows kissed each other into a frown as he wondered who Arthur was, but when he noticed Calvin's inquisitiveness mixed with disapproving eyes at him, the corners of his lips twitched into a small smile.

“Oh, nice to meet you, Mr. Calvin,” Mason beamed, extending his hand for a handshake.

Calvin's eyes slowly dropped to Mason's extended hand. His nose curled up in distaste, and he pressed his lips into a grim line.

Calvin lifted his cold eyes back to Mason's face, saying, “I don't shake hands. I don't know where those have been.”

Feeling embarrassed, Mason retrieved his hand, rubbing the back of his neck to ease off his anxiety.

His gaze drifted to the maids walking out of the twin entrance doors, which were large enough for two elephants to walk through at the same time.

Once the maids approached him and Ana, they offered greetings to them.

"Welcome, Mr..." they trailed off, their eyes raking Mason and Ana's body from head to toe. “Mr. Lachlan,” they said at different intervals before heading to the car's boot.

Mason's skin crawled, and Ana shied away behind him.

"Sir, is this the lost heir you spoke about?" A bald man with a monocle asked Calvin to Mason's hearing.

"Unfortunately," Calvin responded.

Mason's throat tightened, and tension grew thick in the air like heavy pillows of dark clouds. He eyed the bald man, wondering why he used a monocle in the present day.

"This is Robert, head of the house staff, and those–" Calvin paused, pointing at the maids, who carried Mason and Ana's luggage inside the house. "–are the maids who will be at your service," Calvin said, and then his eyes drifted to a shy Ana before he added, "Services."

After Robert shook hands with Mason, he dug his hands into his pocket and pulled out a hand sanitizer.

Mason glanced down at his body, wondering if he looked as tattered as they acted.

"This way," Calvin waved at the entrance door, and pivoted on his heels.

Mason tailed behind them, glancing around in awe.

"Even the air here feels different. It is so fresh," Ana said in a voice barely above a whisper as she interlocked elbows with Mason. "How did you come about this fortune?"

"I'm as confused as you are," Mason said underneath his breath.

"Are you sure this is the right individual?" Mason overheard Robert asking Calvin. "Have you seen the rags he has on?"

"Show them to their rooms, I have to attend to something as instructed by Arthur," Calvin answered, ignoring Robert's remarks.

Calvin walked towards one of the cars and hopped into it.

Mason pressed his lips into a thin line, blocking out their voices. He had already grown a thick skin to such degrading words. He had suffered this all his life right from grade one to college. College was worse. He was called the boy with the black sweater.

Ana gently nudged his ribs, whispering, "Is this like heaven or something?"

Mason blinked back to reality, now beholding the grand foyer. It was even bigger than that of Mr. Russell. The porcelain floor sparkled, delivering a sense of grandeur.

Chandeliers that looked like gemstones hung from the high ceiling, while twin staircases wound their ways up the first floor. There were vases, paintings, picture frames, and a tall grand clock.

Stunned, Mason and Ana paused in their tracks, admiring the elegant decor.

"Mr. Mason," Robert called, snapping Mason back to reality. "I'm afraid your–" he paused, pointing at Ana, unsure of what to address her as.

"Sister," Mason said.

"Yes, sister. She has to wait for the staff to arrange a room for her. We weren't informed you would be coming with a plus one, so we made preparations for only one," Robert explained. "If you don't mind, Cleo will take you to your room while Ana waits in the living room for hers."

"Oh, that's fine. I'll just wait up for her," Mason responded.

"Are you certain?" Robert inquired, tilting his head and glancing at Mason from under his monocle.

“Yes,” Mason answered.

“Very well then, if that is what you wish. You can sit at the waiting area here or up. I'll be in my quarters if you need me.” Robert walked down the foyer, disappearing into one of the halls.

Mason and Ana took a few steps and sat on one of the chairs.

“Did you notice something?” Ana leaned closer to Mason, speaking in hushed tones.

Mason frowned, meeting her gaze, silently urging her to speak further.

“They're cold to us. It's almost as if they don't want us to be here,” Ana revealed, eyes glued on the colorful fish pond a few steps Away from them.

“Yes, I feel it too, especially from Robert. He makes it seem like I'm some bag of disgusting crap,” Mason stated, remembering how Robert referred to Ana as baggage.

Ana hummed, and silence wrapped around them like a shroud.

“What about Mr. Russell? Why had he sent those men to throw us out?” Ana broke the silence.

Mason sighed, raking his fingers through his hair. “Ellen. She tried to seduce me, and then flared up when I refused to give in. She sent her guards to beat me up, but some…”

Mason's voice died down when he remembered the girl, whom he had signed a contract with. His heart skipped a beat, and goosebumps wracked the entirety of his arms.

“Would it be possible to terminate the contract now that I'm about to be rich?” Mason asked in his head, chewing on his bottom lip.

“Mason, but what?” Ana inquired, putting a halt to his self-induced trance.

"Nothing," Mason responded, not wanting to get her worried.

"But do you trust these people?" Ana questioned.

Mason sighed, feeling exasperated. "I don't know. I'm as confused as you are. One thing I know is we have each other, and we'll solve this puzzle piece together."

Ana flashed him a smile, but it was soon replaced with a frown of discomfort.

"I'm kind of pressed, and I don't think I can hold it any longer," Ana said, squeezing her thighs together.

"Hold on, I'll find the bathroom," Mason assured her, rising to his feet.

He sighted one of the maids that assisted them in taking their bags out of the car trunk.

"Excuse me, miss. Do you mind showing us the rest room? My sister is really pressed." He pointed at Ana, and Ana nodded with a sheepish smile.

"Follow there, take left, first door on the right," the maid instructed, pointing at one of the hallways.

"Thank you," Mason and Ana chorused, and the maid walked away.

Mason led Ana to the hallway. It was another majestic structure. The walls were painted white with painting hanging off of them.

They took the left, and found the bathroom. Mason waited outside, while glancing around the place in awe.

From the corner of his eyes, he noticed a door was slightly left ajar.

Mason looked away, crossing his arms over his chest, and waiting for Ana.

The cool breeze from the slightly ajar door whispered on his nape, tugging on the strings of his attention.

He turned, his curiosity bubbling.

"One look wouldn't hurt right?" Mason asked himself in a shallow voice.

He bit his bottom lip in reasoning, and it stung him. He had unconsciously tugged the dry skin, and now it was hurting.

Mason strode to the door, and hesitantly, he pushed it a little.

"Wow," he muttered, mesmerised at the spacious room filled with what seemed to be expensive art works.

Pushing the door further, it creaked as if protesting. Mason was drawn by the beautiful sculptures.

He turned to the right, letting his eyes fall on a grand piano. His heart leapt for joy. He had always admires Ellen whenever she played when they were kids, hoping someday he would learn.

Mason's legs will him to it, and he meticulously skimmed his fingers across the keyboards.

Another thing caught his attention. It was a golden vase, sitting inside a glass box. He went closer, inspecting it.

Just as he stretched his hand to touch it, the door flew open, and a shrill sound cracked the air like the whip of a slave master.

"What are you doing?”

Mason juddered, spinning to meet an unfamiliar face of a slightly chubby lady.

Mason shook his head and opened his mouth to speak, but the man beat him to it again.

“You're trying to steal from the Lachlans?” The girl asked, directing an accusatory glance at him.

“No, I was only–”

“Shut up! How did the guards allow a wretch like you into this place?!” She bellowed.

“I'm not a thief,” Mason defended himself, holding up his hands in surrender.

His heart galloped, and his stomach churned. What else could possibly go wrong.

“Security!” She screamed, rushing to the side of the door and tapping a red button.

It began to make a loud noise that was enough to render anyone red.

“Miss, stop it, I am not a thief. I was brought in here by Mr. Williams. I am Mason Lachlan,” Mason tried to explain himself as panic surged through him.

The girl eyed him from head to toe, furrowing her forehead. “You, Mr. Lachlan's heir?”

Mason nodded, feeling a slight relief the moment her eyes softened.

Her nose wrinkled in distaste, and her lips curled upwards. “You are not just a thief, you are also a liar.”

Mason's heart skipped a beat again. He tried to walk out, but he slammed his face into one of the guards, who rushed into the room with an alarmed expression.

“What's going on here, Cheryl?” The guards asked, glancing at the girl who had tapped on the emergency button.

“He is,” She pointed at Mason, and the guard followed the direction of her hand.

The guard and the one behind him raked Mason from head to toe.

“He is a thief!” The girl Mason had just learned was called Cheryl exclaimed.

Mason's pulse raced, and for the second time that day, he felt doomed. He felt like he was trapped in a loop of unfortunate circumstances.

“I didn't do it,” Mason protested.

The guards charged towards him, now gripping the sides of his worn out trousers. Just as they were about to drag Mason away, the door swung open, causing everyone to look in it's direction.

A tall man with a broad chest and a taut jaw walked into the room. His lips were pursed into a frown, and his eyes narrowed into crinkled slits.

“What's going on?” He asked, his voice sounding like the dead of the night.

“Good day, Mr. Arthur,” the guards and Cheryl chorused, slightly tilting their heads down to show respect before raising them back.

Hope sprouted in Mason's stomach. This man named Arthur must be their boss, and he was definitely the one, who sent Williams to retrieve him.

“We caught this man trying to steal one of Lachlan's most prized possessions.

“I wasn't trying to steal anything. I was brought in by your men, and according to the maids, they needed extra time to prepare a second room because they weren't aware I would be bringing in my sister,” Mason explained amidst the loud pounding of his heart.

Arthur's forehead creased. “Who are you supposed to be?”

“I was just told that I am Lachlan's heir,” Mason answered.

Arthur eyed Mason with a look of scrutiny, and Mason felt uncomfortable in his own skin.

“You?” Arthur pointed at Mason, and the guards gripping Mason's pants guffawed from the back of their throats.

Mason nodded with desperation clouding his eyes. He didn't want to be in another sticky situation.

Arthur scoffed, saying, “Are you joking? Can't you come up with a better lie?”

Mason's chest was constricted. “I am not lying.”

“Take him away,” Arthur clipped, waving his hand.