The Tycoon Heir

Chapter 2: Embezzlement Agency

Nathan's footsteps were sluggish as he walked back through the creaky front door of that small house. The familiar scent of Madam Rose's perfume filled the air, and he let out another sigh, knowing the day hadn't gotten any better for him. It was day in and day out: work, chores, more work, the same routine, with a grim reminder that he didn't belong. He threw his bag onto the couch and went into the kitchen, where Madam Rose was already seated, sipping her tea.

"You are late," she said, her voice cold as steel, sharp and commanding. "What held you back? You are supposed to be back now, but I can see the way you have been wasting your time again."

Nathan looked down, not raising his head. "Sorry, Madam Rose," he murmured, staring at the floor.

Madam Rose did not even look at him and only waved her hand dismissively. "You better make dinner tonight. You know how much I hate eating late. Go on, get to work."

"Yes, ma'am," Nathan said in a barely audible voice. He walked to the fridge, opened it, and began pulling out the ingredients for the meal. Mechanically, his hands chopped the vegetables and stirred the pot.

His wife, Sophia, entered moments later, her heels clicking on the floor. She didn't greet him; she just walked past him to sit at the table. "You look miserable," she said, eyeing him with a strange mixture of apathy and disdain.

Nathan didn't say a word. There was no point. He had learned long ago that his words meant nothing in this house.

"So, how was your day?" Sophia asked, sounding more like she was reading from a script than actually caring.

"It was fine," Nathan answered, his voice flat.

Sophia raised an eyebrow. "Just fine? Are you sure you're not being dramatic like always? You're lucky you even have a job. You don't know how many people would kill for the position you're in."

Nathan didn't argue, for he was only lucky enough to have the job, it wasn't as though it changed the way they treated him.

Madam Rose looked up from her tea. "Sophia, don't waste your time with him. He's a burden, and he knows it. He can talk about how hard life is, yet has done nothing to make any alteration to his life.

Sophia shifted uncomfortably in her chair. She nodded, but Nathan noticed the slight twitch of her lips, a flicker of something that could have been guilt but quickly vanished.

"Anyway," Sophia said, "Did you finish that thing I asked you to do?"

Nathan nodded, though he had no idea what she was referring to. "Yes, I finished it."

"Good," she said, barely sparing him a glance.

Dinner was ready, and Nathan set the table, trying to make the movements swift and silent. He couldn't afford to goof up. He didn't want another lecture on what a failure he was.

After they were done with dinner, he cleaned the dishes, wiping down the table and putting everything away. Madam Rose had moved on to the next complaint.

"You've been slacking off," she said coldly. "Why is there still dust on the shelves? I want this place spotless. You think you are a guest here?"

"No, ma'am," Nathan muttered and snatched the dusting cloth, running it fast across the shelves. His hands were to move faster in trying to be done before Madam Rose decided to find some other thing to complain about.

Sophia sat on the couch, scrolling through her phone, hardly registering Nathan's existence. It was only when Madam Rose reproached him once more that she looked up.

"I'm just saying, Nathan," she said, "You could at least put in some work or something. You will never get anywhere, hanging around and playing the cool servant." Nathan swallowed his lumpy throat but remained tight-lipped. He decided it wasn't worth it; he had heard it all before.

At last, after an eternity of cleaning, he sat himself down at the small table in the corner of the room. He opened his phone and stared blankly into the screen. His mind just would not quit going back to that symbol, that insignia he'd seen at work. The image had been so vivid, so haunting. How he could ever forget his mother's telling him about that all those years ago he just didn't know.

"I'll never forget the day your father gave it to me," she had said dreamily. "He said it would one day be yours, but you must never forget who you are."

Nathan shuddered, pushing the thought away. There was no point in dwelling on it.

Sophia interrupted his thoughts as she walked up to him, a frown on her face. "What's bothering you now?"

Nathan hesitated and then suddenly said, "I saw something today at work. A symbol. It's the same one my mom used to draw."

Appalled, Sophia's eyebrows rose. "You're being stupid. It was some random mark on some machinery.”

"No, Sophia, it's the same one. She said it was from my father. It means something."

Sophia scoffed, rolling her eyes. “Your father? Really? That’s just some fairy tale you’ve been holding onto. You’re being ridiculous.”

Nathan opened his mouth to argue but stopped when he saw Madam Rose walking by.

“What’s this nonsense about?” Madam Rose asked, her eyes narrowing.

“Nathan’s talking about some symbol he saw at work. He’s acting like it means something,” Sophia explained, her tone mocking.

Madam Rose laughed. "Oh, he's crazy. Your mother probably made up some story to make him feel special. He has always been a nobody, and he will always be a nobody. Forget about it, Sophia; he is wasting your time.

Nathan's heart fell, but he said nothing. It was how they had always been to him. The death of his mother broke him, and he felt maybe marrying Sophia would be his fresh start. Now, he wasn't so sure what changed.

That night, Nathan lay in bed, unable to sleep. Every time he closed his eyes, odd, disturbing visions filled his head: a dark, towering man, a chill smile tugging his lips, his hand clasping the symbol-the very one that was in the server room.

"You will rule with this," the voice of the man rumbled low, threatening. "It's your birthright, Nathan."

Nathan's heart was racing while he struggled to wake himself from the dream. But the words of the man just would not stop echoing in his ears, growing louder, more insistent.

The next morning, Nathan woke up with a headache and a feeling of unease that would not leave him. He got up, went through his chores without a word, and left for work.

It was cold and uncomfortable in the office, nobody spoke to him except as necessary, and then spoke in few words. It was as if he was another part of the background, invisible doing the work that nobody else cared to do. The symbol and the weird dream flitted across his mind again.

Just as he was getting into work, the doors of the office swung wide open, and in ran several police officers. They didn't leave one's eyes with a choice-they commanded attention.

"Everybody stand up! This is an investigation into embezzlement and financial mismanagement," yelled the leading officer.

Confused, Nathan rose. He didn't know what was going on, there was complete silence as the officers started tapping into some employee records, and with the help of computers, they also began tracing misplaced funds.

Nathan went aside to let them have their way through. Against the law, he had nothing to hide, yet the tensions were so high that a cloud of suspicion still hovered over his head.

The officers were all over it hot and heavy, trying to make something out of it. All of a sudden, he heard a commotion. One officer was at his desk and pointing to the screen of his computer.

"This is where the funds are tracked back to," the officer said. "It's tagged to Nathan's ID."

Nathan's heart fluttered in his chest. His eyes fixed at the officer in utter disbelief.

"What?" he said, stepping up. "That can't be—"

You are under investigation for embezzlement," the officer cut in, coldly. "Please come with us."

Nathan opened his mouth to protest, but no words came out. He couldn't believe it. How could this be happening? Was he being set up?

Before he could utter another word, the officers had his arms in their firm grasp and were dragging him away. He resisted but was helpless. His head reeled in confusion and fear-he was in deeper trouble than he had ever imagined.