The Hidden Heir

Chapter Three

He quickly typed a response, demanding to know who was sending such cryptic messages, but received no reply. There was no response. 

Turner had just advised him to stay lowkey, and here there’s someone who seemed to know something. 

The night was silent as he stepped into his modest apartment. 

Ryan’s phone buzzed again, startling him. It was Turner's number. He answered the call, his voice slightly shaky.

"Ryan, I know this is overwhelming," Turner began, his voice steady and reassuring. "But you must stay vigilant. The shadows of the past have a way of resurfacing at unexpected times."

Ryan listened intently, his grip tightening on the phone. He felt a strange feeling of fear and determination, like a fire burning in his belly. 

"Be cautious," Turner continued. "There are those who would stop at nothing to keep the secrets buried. Trust no one completely until you're certain of their intentions."

A chill ran down Ryan's spine at the gravity of Turner's words. 

“Someone messaged me.” He finally let out. 

“Don’t reply!” Turner’s response was sharp and quick. 

Well, too late, Ryan had responded. 

“These people are aware you’re around. They’re not people you can confidently confront, Ryan.”

"What should I do next?" Ryan asked, his voice a bit shaky while he maintained composure. 

“I’m ready to help you. You need to let me help you by remaining the delivery guy you were before meeting me.” 

"We will meet tomorrow to discuss how we proceed. And remember, your father believed in you. The wristwatch is a testament to that belief. Keep it. It’s also evidence of your sonship to him.”

With those words, the call ended, leaving Ryan with a sense of purpose. 

He looked at the wristwatch, resting in his palm. He traced the engraved symbol, feeling a connection to a world he had never known existed.

Thoughts whirred in his mind like a tempest. Humanly, he wanted revenge and to rob it on Jessica and her so-called boyfriend’s face that he’s not the poor guy they all thought him to be. 

However, he needed to stay in the dark. 

***

The officer subtly shook his head, a silent denial. “You are not allowed in here.”

It was tomorrow, Ryan had gotten to the restaurant Turner had told him to meet up. 

He was stopped from entering the restaurant by the security officer. 

“What do you mean I’m not allowed in?” Ryan furrowed his brow. 

“Here, our customers are carefully selected, and unfortunately, you don’t fit the profile.”

Ryan felt a sting of exclusion. The restaurant was a big one, and it was very obvious that it was exclusively meant for the billionaires. 

The security guard eyed Ryan’s worn attire “You look tattered and you have higher chances of scaring off our customers with your look.” He firmly pushed Ryan away.

Ryan’s voice rose defensively, a hint of frustration lacing his words. “Do you have any idea who I am?”

Of course, the guard didn’t know he was the one to succeed the almighty Regal Haven Hotel. 

“From their look, we know them. You can do yourself the favor of finding another location.”

Ryan pulled out his phone to call Turner who didn’t pick up. 

He got bothered and couldn’t wait to ascend to the position of the Director of  Regal Haven Hotel. By that, he wouldn’t need to call Turner who wouldn’t pick up anyway to get access to some places. 

“You’ll pay for this.” His words reverberated with anger.

Two sleek, high-end cars hovered in view, capturing Ryan’s attention. 

His eyes widened with awe and longing; these were his dream cars. As the engines purred and the cars came to a stop, he couldn’t help but wonder about their owners.

“It’s a place for the wealthy, after all,” he muttered to himself, trying to conceal his envy.

A car door opened gracefully, revealing Turner stepping out. A wave of relief washed over Ryan at the sight of his familiar face.

Simultaneously, the other car’s door swung open, and a figure emerged. While unfamiliar to Ryan, the person exuded an air of authority, power, and immense wealth.

Ryan swallowed, realizing the magnitude of the gathering. “It was supposed to be a private discussion, why is the third person here?” he mumbled under his breath.

Approaching him, Turner offered an apology, “I apologize for coming late.”

Turner approached him. “I apologize for coming late.”

“Welcome to Restaurant de ultra-luxury.” The security guard bowed to the guests as they made their entry into the restaurant. 

Ryan gave the guard a dagger look, only if looks could kill, the guard would have been a dead man by now. 

They made their way in and sat at a three-spaced table where they ventured into discussion without wasting too much time which is Turner’s style of life: no time to waste. 

“This is Smith Parker, the Director of Regal Haven Hotel.” Turner introduced Smith to Ryan who sat there perplexed. 

He still didn’t understand why the discussion was supposed to involve a third party. 

“Didn’t he tell me these people are dangerous?” 

Ryan pondered, the confusion deepening within him.

His thought was interrupted by the attendant who came to take their orders and shortly brought in their orders. 

“Like I told you Smith, this is Ryan, Jack’s son,” Turner said with a wide smile. 

“I know.” His tone was dismissive and arrogant. 

“He’s back to take charge of the hotel,” Turner added. 

Ryan felt like the boss at that instant. 

“Is he dumb?” Smith stared at Ryan with disgust, his gaze unnerving. Ryan felt uneasy, unsure about what the man’s look meant.

“What confidence. I see why you’re the Director. Well, it’s best that you accept who you are here because I'm back to take my spot and that means you leaving.” Ryan said locking eyes with Smith. 

“He can’t,” Smith said. 

“You don’t mean that Smith,” Turner argued. 

“He’s not fit.”

“What do you mean I’m not fit? Oh! You’re the best match for the position aren’t you?”  Ryan bumped in. 

“Then prove me wrong,” Smith said, he stood up and walked away out of the restaurant. 

Turner sighed, his hand rubbing his face. 

“Why did you bring him here?” Ryan questioned his voice, almost whispering. 

His question hung in the air. 

Leaning closer to Turner. He lowered his voice more. “Isn’t he the director? Then he killed my fathers. You want him to kill me too?” 

Turner met Ryan’s gaze, and the tension was palpable.

“Don’t look at me like that. You..” he pointed at Turner “that my father was killed by people who wanted to overchance him. And that description sounded exactly like Smith.” 

“What name did I mention?” Tuner questioned. 

“Of course no name. But you mentioned the position.” He leaned back to his seat. 

“Don’t overdo yourself,” Turner cautioned as he made his way out of the restaurant.

Ryan hastily stood, rushing to catch up with him.

“Wait!” he yelled.

“What’s next?” Ryan inquired.

Turner responded only with a profound gaze into Ryan’s eyes.

“Get me a job at the hotel,” he urged.

“What kind of job?” 

“I’m not sure. Something high-ranking that doesn’t expose my identity though. But I want to hold authority,” Ryan explained.

“Alright. Come to the hotel tomorrow. You’ll be appointed as the General Manager,” Turner assured.