The Inheritor Of The Houston Empire

8• Billionaire Card

Inside the Delacroix family’s corporate office, the atmosphere was thick with tension. Spencer Delacroix stood in front of his father in his office, heart pounding, knowing how strict his father was and how much he'd fucked up.

Across the large mahogany desk, Edgar Delacroix was glaring at his son with disappointment and anger. A slim, shrewd man in a suit was standing beside him, he was John Lockhart, their family lawyer, and in his hand was a file.

“Father, I’m so sorry,” Spencer begged. “I did not realize wh—”

“Shut up, Spencer!” Edgar roared. “Shut up and listen to Mr. Lockhart and what he has to say. You must realize the consequences of what you have done. He will list all the names of the powerful families that have severed their ties with the Delacroix business — our business!”

Spencer's heart dropped.

“Go ahead, Mr. Lockhart.”

The shrewd lawyer turned over a page on the file. “The Valences, the Turners, the Maronis, the Carters, the Davidsons, and the Wests,” the lawyer announced. “All of them gone. The Delacroix name is now synonymous with failure and disgrace.”

Each time a name was mentioned, Spencer felt a hammer blow in his chest, and it was clear that the power of the Houstons could not be truffled with.

“Father, this was only because of a misunderstanding. I did not mean to disrespect the Houston family or the Young Master.”

“It doesn't matter what your intention was, Spencer!” Edgar Delacroix stood up and slammed his fist on the desk. “Your stupidity has brought shame and ruin upon this family, and you will fix it!”

Spencer flinched. “But how?” he stammered desperately. “The Houstons—”

“I don’t care how!” Edgar roared, his face red with anger. “You will go back to the Houstons’ mansion, and you will beg! Get on your knees, kiss the heir’s feet if you have to, but you will make this right!”

Spencer gulped. It had been a long time since he'd seen his father this angry. And did he hear that right? His father wanted him to kiss the feet of the Young Master? They had lost everything already, and he wants to lose his dignity as well?

“Am I understood, Spencer?! Because God help you, if you do not fix this, I will take the Delacroix business away from you. I’ll hand it over to your sister, Susana. She’s been waiting for a chance, and you’ve just handed it to her on a silver platter!”

Spencer's heart almost stopped this time. Susana was his cunning and ambitious sister, and she would want nothing more than to take over the family business. And she wouldn’t hesitate to push him aside if it meant securing her own power.

“I’ll do it!” Spencer declared. There was no way he was letting her take the business from him. “I’ll go to the Houstons and fix this.”

Edgar's glare didn't soften. “You’d better,” he said coldly and sat back down. “Because this is your last chance. If you fail, you are no longer the CEO of the Delacroix Business.”

— — —

Back at the Houston Manor, everyone was busy with the return of the heir being the talk of the house. First, Matthew had taken a bath in an expensive tub, washing away all the stress of the day, including the smell of urine from his body. Then, he had been taken to an opulent, white room and laid on a soft bed.

It was the most comfortable bed he had ever laid in but even in that comfort, his body still ached from the injuries, and his head still hurt with the whirlwind of emotions that he was still struggling to process.

A team of respectable doctors and nurses took care of him. They were led by Dr. Kennedy Smith, who was the Houston Family’s exclusive doctor. He made sure all of Matthew's needs were met, and that the process wasn't too painful.

The attention was almost too much to bear, and Matthew began to believe that he was living in a dream.

After the doctors finished their work, Matthew was lying on the bed with bandages all over his body where the injuries had been sustained — which included his head.

Apart from Dr. Kennedy standing by the door, Matthew was left alone, listening to the faint ticking of a grand clock on the wall.

He could not stop thinking about what a day it had been. He kept struggling to make sense of the fact that he was, apparently, the heir to one of the most powerful families in the world.

The door to the room opened, and Matthew looked up to see the old lady—his grandmother—entering the room. She shook Dr. Kennedy's hand and gave him a check. The doctor told Matthew to take it easy, then he left.

The matriarch then turned to Matthew. She had a stern face, but it was softened by an expression of deep care and concern. Slowly, she approached Matthew’s bed, and then sat on the chair placed beside it.

“How are you feeling, my boy?” she asked gently, taking his hand in hers and rubbing it warmly.

Matthew struggled to find his voice. “I... I’m fine,” he managed. “But... is it true? Are you really my grandmother?”

The matriarch nodded with clear pain in her eyes that were already misting with tears. “Yes, Matthew,” she said softly. Then the tears began to fall. The stern, powerful matriarch of the Houston Empire was crying beside the bed of her recovered grandson.

“Twenty years we have been searching for you. Others would have given up, but I continued. I knew you were somewhere out there in this horrible city, suffering, trying to get by, and the thought of it hurt me everyday. But now… I have found you. I’ve never been this happy since the day you were born.”

Matthew felt a lump rise in his throat. There was no need trying to deny it anymore. It was true. He was the Young Master, the heir of the Houston Empire.

The old lady reached into her pocket and pulled out a sleek, black and gold card. It had the name; ‘Houston’ written on it, with their family logo of three stars.

She handed it to Matthew with a smile. “This is for you,” she said. “Every year, since your disappearance, we’ve deposited fifty million dollars into this account, hoping that one day we would find you and be able to give it to you.”

Matthew stared at the card in shock. “Fifty million... every year?” he repeated, hardly able to believe it.

“Yes,” his grandmother nodded. “In total, the account now holds over 1.6 billion dollars.”

Matthew's eyebrows shot up and his eyes widened. “What?”