THE HEIR'S AGONY TRIAL BY FIRE

THE GHOST OF A FATHER

"Harper! Yo, Harper!"

Aidan barely turned his head as a paper ball bounced off his desk. He was hunched over his worn laptop in the corner of Pacific West University’s crowded library, his fingers flying over the keyboard. His eyes burned from hours of staring at the screen, but he didn’t care. He had a programming assignment due by midnight, and he was barely halfway through.

"Harper, you’re gonna burn out, man," the voice continued, louder this time.

Aidan finally glanced up to see Maddie Quinn, his best and only friend, standing with a hand on her hip, her red pixie cut catching the fluorescent light.

"I’m fine," he muttered, pushing his glasses up his nose.

"You’re not fine," Maddie shot back, pulling up a chair. "You look like you haven’t slept in days. When was the last time you ate?"

Aidan didn’t answer. The truth was, he couldn’t remember. Food was secondary when rent was overdue, and the only thing keeping him afloat was his tutoring gigs and freelance coding jobs.

"You’re going to end up in the hospital if you keep this up," Maddie said, lowering her voice. "Seriously, Aidan. You can’t live like this."

"I don’t have a choice," he replied, not looking at her. "It’s either this or..." He trailed off, unwilling to voice the fear that always lingered in the back of his mind: failure.

Maddie sighed, her expression softening. "Look, just promise me you’ll take a break after this, okay?"

"Fine," he lied, his attention already back on the screen.

The rest of the day passed in a blur. Classes. Work. The constant hum of survival that never seemed to let up. By the time Aidan returned to his tiny apartment, the sun had long since set, and exhaustion weighed heavy on his shoulders.

He unlocked the door to find the power was out again.

"Great," he muttered, fumbling for his phone to use as a flashlight. He set his backpack down and collapsed onto the couch, the springs groaning under his weight.

His phone buzzed in his hand.

Unknown Number.

He stared at the screen, his thumb hovering over the answer button. Telemarketers were a daily annoyance, but something about this call felt... different.

Against his better judgment, he answered. "Hello?"

"Is this Aidan Harper?" The voice on the other end was deep, authoritative, and unnervingly calm.

"Who’s asking?" Aidan replied, sitting up straighter.

"My name is Victor Sinclair. I represent the estate of William Cross."

Aidan frowned. "I think you’ve got the wrong number."

"I assure you, I do not," Sinclair said, his tone razor-sharp. "You are Aidan Harper, age twenty-two, currently enrolled at Pacific West University. Born to Margaret Harper in Portland, Oregon."

Aidan’s stomach dropped. "How do you know all that?"

There was a pause before Sinclair spoke again, his voice quieter but no less intense. "Because you, Mr. Harper, are the son of William Cross."

Aidan froze. He must have misheard. "What did you just say?"

"You heard me. William Cross. Your father. He passed away two days ago, and as his only heir, you are entitled to his entire estate."

"You’ve got the wrong guy," Aidan said, his voice rising. "My dad... My dad was no one. He wasn’t some billionaire!"

"Your mother never told you, did she?" Sinclair sounded almost amused. "She wanted to keep you out of this world, but now it seems fate has other plans."

"This has to be some kind of scam," Aidan muttered, running a hand through his hair. "I don’t have a father. Not anymore."

"You’ll find out soon enough," Sinclair replied. "A car will arrive tomorrow at noon to take you to the Cross estate. I suggest you prepare yourself, Mr. Harper. Your life is about to change."

The line went dead.

Aidan stared at his phone, his heart pounding. This couldn’t be real. It had to be a mistake. Or a cruel joke. But as the minutes ticked by, doubt crept in, followed by something far worse: fear.

The next morning, Maddie burst into his apartment without knocking.

"Explain this!" she demanded, holding up her phone. The screen displayed an article about William Cross’s death, complete with a photo of the man himself.

Aidan rubbed his temples. "I don’t even know where to start."

"You’re telling me *this guy* was your dad?" Maddie asked, incredulous. "The William Cross? The billionaire?"

"Apparently," Aidan said, his voice flat. "Some lawyer called me last night. Said I’m his heir."

Maddie dropped onto the couch beside him. "This is insane. Like, Lifetime movie insane. What are you going to do?"

"I don’t know," Aidan admitted. "Part of me wants to ignore it and pretend it’s not happening. But..."

"But what?"

He hesitated, then met her gaze. "What if it’s true? What if this is my chance to get out of this mess?"

Maddie frowned. "Yeah, but at what cost? You don’t just inherit billions without strings attached."

Before Aidan could respond, the sound of tires screeching outside made them both jump. He moved to the window and peeked through the blinds.

A sleek black car was parked at the curb.

"It’s them," he said, his throat dry.

"You’re really doing this?" Maddie asked, her voice tinged with worry.

"I don’t think I have a choice," Aidan replied, grabbing his jacket.

As he stepped outside, the driver opened the door without a word. Aidan hesitated, his mind racing with doubts.

"Aidan!" Maddie called from the doorway. "Be careful, okay?"

He nodded, then climbed into the car.

The ride was long and silent, the cityscape giving way to sprawling estates and gated communities. Aidan couldn’t stop fidgeting, his nerves fraying with each passing mile.

When the car finally stopped, he stepped out onto a circular driveway lined with manicured hedges. The mansion before him was massive, its stone facade imposing against the gray sky.

"This way, Mr. Harper," the driver said, leading him to the front doors.

Inside, the air was heavy with the scent of polished wood and old money. A man in a tailored suit stood waiting, his piercing gaze fixed on Aidan.

"Victor Sinclair," the man said, extending a hand.

Aidan shook it reluctantly. "So... this is real, huh?"

"Very real," Sinclair replied. "And very dangerous."

Aidan frowned. "What do you mean?"

"Your father’s empire is not as it seems," Sinclair said, his tone grave. "There are enemies everywhere, and now that you’ve inherited it, they’ll be coming for you."

"Coming for me?" Aidan repeated, his voice rising. "I didn’t ask for any of this!"

"Nonetheless, it’s yours," Sinclair said. "And if you want to survive, you’ll need to adapt quickly."

Aidan’s mind was spinning. He felt like he was standing on the edge of a cliff, the ground crumbling beneath him.

"Why me?" he asked finally.

Sinclair’s expression softened, just slightly. "Because you’re his son. And whether you like it or not, you’re the only one who can carry on his legacy."

Before Aidan could respond, a loud crash echoed through the mansion.

"What the hell was that?" he asked, his pulse racing.

Sinclair’s face darkened. "It seems the wolves have already arrived."