Unexpected Inheritance

Chapter 3

David frowned. Was he imagining it? His senses were hazy from the alcohol, but the car’s headlights were unmistakable. It was following him. He quickened his pace, his feet stumbling beneath him. The car mirrored his movements, staying just a few yards behind.

His heart raced. He could feel the panic creeping in. He wanted to run, to get away, but his legs refused to cooperate. His body was too drunk, too exhausted to fight it. Sweat beaded on his forehead, and his mind screamed at him to move faster, but his body wasn’t listening.

The car didn’t stop. It kept its distance, but it was still there, watching him.

“Damn it,” he muttered under his breath, his voice slurred. He looked back again. The car was still there, headlights blinding him in the dark.

But then, everything went black.

---

When David came to life, the steady beep of a heart monitor was the first thing he heard. The sound was rhythmic, almost comforting. He opened his eyes slowly, the blurriness fading away as his vision adjusted.

He was in a hospital room. The walls were white and sterile. He could smell the faint scent of antiseptic. His head throbbed, and his body felt sore, like he'd been hit by a truck.

He tried to sit up, but his arms felt weak. The drip in his hand tugged uncomfortably as he attempted to lift it.

“That’s not a good idea.”

David’s gaze shifted to the voice. An older man stood by the door, his face wrinkled with age but kind. His white hair was neatly combed, and he leaned on a cane, his posture straight despite the cane’s support.

David scowled, his mind still foggy. “Who the hell are you?”

The old man smiled gently. “I’m a friend. You were in bad shape last night. My men found you and brought you here.”

David blinked, trying to piece together the events from the night before. “I don’t need your help,” he muttered, yanking the drip from his hand. He swung his legs over the side of the bed and tried to stand. His knees buckled, and he almost fell, but the old man was there, reaching out to steady him.

“You’re in no condition to leave,” the old man said firmly, his hand on David’s shoulder. “You need rest.”

David shrugged the hand off. “I’m fine. I don’t need any of this.” His voice was sharp, frustration lacing his words. “I just need to go home.” David was still in anger, after everything that happened last night. His mood was still sore.

The old man sighed, his expression softening but still firm. “You’re in no condition to go anywhere. You’re not well, young man. You need time to recover. And besides, I brought you here to talk to you about something important.”

“I said I’m fine,” David snapped, his head spinning as he stood. His vision blurred again, and he leaned against the bed for support.

The old man stepped forward, his cane tapping lightly on the floor as he moved closer. “Listen to me, at least. I'm here to talk to you about an inheritance—your inheritance.”

David glared at him, his jaw clenched. “What inheritance?"

"You're from a noble family, and I've come to give you what's yours. Something far more than you can comprehend."

"What are you talking about?"

"You're the heir of the Knights Family. You need to let me help you." The old man’s eyes softened. “I understand your disbelief. I know it’s hard to accept, especially after everything you’ve been through. But the truth is, you’re not just anyone, Roland.”

David shook his head, trying to make sense of the jumble of information. “That name... how—where did you hear that name from? Who are you really?”

David sat back down on the bed, his mind racing. His hands trembled slightly as he gripped the edge of the hospital blanket. The older man’s words echoed in his head—he was from a noble family, an heir to something far larger than he could comprehend.

The man had spoken with a calm authority, but his words left David confused. He had never known his family to be anything special, just a simple working-class background, although he was just an orphan, he was always told by the orphanage guardians that his parents died in a car accident. Now, the idea that he belonged to a wealthy and powerful lineage seemed impossible. The name the man had used—he hadn’t heard it in years. He thought it was just a memory, a shadow of something from his past. But hearing it now brought a sense of dread and disbelief.

The man noticed David’s confusion and sighed, sitting down in the chair beside the bed. “I know this is a lot to take in, but everything I’m telling you is true.”

David looked at him, his eyes narrowing. “Who are you? What are you talking about? Noble family? Heir? I’m just a nobody—just factory worker. What’s all this about?”

The man’s expression grew more serious. “I was a close associate of your family. I worked with your father for many years. My name is Arthur—Arthur Wren. I was the butler of the Knights Family, and I’ve been keeping an eye on things while you... were lost.”

David’s brow furrowed. “Lost? What do you mean, ‘lost’?”