THE HEIR'S AGONY TRIAL BY FIRE

The encounter

The gala’s shimmering ambiance seemed to fade away as Aidan and William locked eyes, the hum of conversations and clinking glasses reduced to a distant buzz. Aidan’s heart thundered in his chest, each beat screaming with anger, confusion, and a desperate need for answers.

William’s face remained impassive, but his sharp eyes betrayed a flicker of recognition. It was as though he had seen a ghost—a ghost from a past he had buried long ago.

“Excuse me,” William said, his voice calm but his gaze fixed on Aidan.

The crowd around William, sensing the shift in his demeanor, parted slightly. Aidan seized the moment, stepping forward with purposeful strides.

“You’re William Cross,” Aidan said, his voice steady but tinged with a restrained fury.

William raised an eyebrow, his expression unreadable. “And you are?”

Aidan clenched his fists, his nails biting into his palms. “Your son.”

The words hung in the air, heavy and undeniable. A hushed silence seemed to ripple through the onlookers closest to them, though most remained engrossed in their glittering conversations.

William blinked, his composure faltering for the briefest of moments. Then, with a practiced ease, he offered a polite smile. “I think you must be mistaken.”

“Mistaken?” Aidan’s voice rose, his emotions threatening to boil over. “I’m not mistaken. My mother is Clara. Clara Dawson. Ring any bells?”

William’s jaw tightened imperceptibly, but his voice remained measured. “I’m afraid I don’t know what you’re talking about. If you’ll excuse me—”

“You can’t walk away from this!” Aidan interrupted, pulling Clara’s diary from his jacket and thrusting it toward William. “You can’t erase us!”

The diary hit William’s chest and fell to the floor, the sound startlingly loud against the marble tiles. For a split second, William’s mask slipped. His eyes darted to the diary, then back to Aidan, filled with an emotion that looked suspiciously like guilt.

A sharp voice cut through the tension. “Is everything all right here, Mr. Cross?”

Aidan turned to see two security guards approaching, their expressions hard.

William held up a hand, his polished demeanor snapping back into place. “It’s fine,” he said smoothly. “Just a misunderstanding.”

One of the guards stepped closer to Aidan. “Sir, you’ll need to leave.”

“I’m not leaving until he gives me answers!” Aidan protested, his voice breaking.

William sighed, his face a mask of controlled indifference. But as the guards moved to escort Aidan out, he subtly slipped a business card into Aidan’s pocket. His voice dropped to a near-whisper. “Come find me.”

---

Outside the venue, the cold night air hit Aidan like a slap. He stood on the sidewalk, fists clenched, his breath visible in the chilly air. He could still feel the weight of William’s gaze, the unspoken tension between them crackling like static.

He reached into his pocket and pulled out the card. The stark black-and-white design was minimalist, with a name, address, and a time: William Cross, 2:00 PM, Suite 1507.

Aidan stared at it, his emotions swirling. This wasn’t over—not by a long shot.

---

Back at the apartment, Clara was waiting for him, her expression a mixture of relief and anger.

“Where have you been?” she demanded, her voice trembling.

Aidan tossed his jacket onto the couch and faced her. “I met him.”

Clara froze, her face draining of color. “Met who?”

“You know who,” Aidan said. “William Cross. My father.”

Clara’s hand flew to her mouth. “No… Aidan, you didn’t.”

“I did,” he said, his voice rising. “And he’s exactly what I expected—a liar and a coward.”

Clara shook her head, tears spilling down her cheeks. “You shouldn’t have done that. You don’t understand what you’re getting yourself into.”

“Then help me understand!” Aidan shouted. “Because all I have are questions, and neither of you seems willing to give me answers!”

---

Clara sank into a chair, her hands trembling. “He’s dangerous, Aidan. The people around him… they’ll do anything to protect him and his secrets.”

“I don’t care,” Aidan said fiercely. “I deserve to know the truth.”

“And what will that truth do for you?” Clara shot back, her voice breaking. “Will it make you happy? Will it bring peace? Because all it brought me was pain.”

Aidan’s jaw tightened, but he said nothing.

---

The next day, Aidan arrived at the address on the card, a towering glass building that seemed to pierce the sky. The lobby was pristine, the kind of place where every surface gleamed and every person moved with purpose.

He approached the receptionist, a polished woman with a practiced smile.

“I have an appointment with William Cross,” he said.

She glanced at her computer and nodded. “Suite 1507. The elevators are to your left.”

---

The elevator ride felt endless, the numbers ticking upward with agonizing slowness. When the doors finally opened, Aidan stepped into a sleek, modern office space.

A man in a tailored suit greeted him. “Mr. Cross is expecting you. This way, please.”

Aidan followed him down a hallway lined with abstract art, his heart pounding.

The man opened a door and gestured for Aidan to enter. William was sitting at a massive desk, his back to the door as he stared out at the city skyline.

“Close the door,” William said without turning around.

Aidan did as he was told, the click of the door echoing in the silent room.

William finally turned to face him, his expression unreadable. “You’ve got my attention. What do you want?”

“I want the truth,” Aidan said, stepping forward. “Why did you leave us? Why did you abandon her?”

William leaned back in his chair, his gaze piercing. “It’s not that simple.”

“Then make it simple,” Aidan snapped. “She loved you. She waited for you. And you just disappeared.”

William’s jaw tightened. “You don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Then tell me!” Aidan demanded.

William stood, his imposing figure towering over Aidan. “You think you have all the answers, don’t you? That your mother’s story is the only one that matters.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Aidan asked, his voice shaking.

“It means there are things you don’t understand,” William said coldly. “Things that would destroy her if you knew.”

“Then tell me,” Aidan said, his voice low but firm. “Because I’m not leaving until you do.”

William stared at him for a long moment, the tension between them thick enough to cut. Finally, he sighed, running a hand through his hair.

“She didn’t tell you everything, did she?” he said quietly. “About why I left. About the threats.”

Aidan frowned. “Threats?”

William nodded, his face grim. “My family wasn’t just rich—they were powerful. And they didn’t want her in my life. They made sure she understood that.”