Chapter 3The Heir and the Fraud

The tension in the living room noticeably lifted.

But there was also a faint undercurrent of disappointment—none of them got the breakdown they'd been expecting. No crying, no begging, no hysterics.

I looked at them.

"As for the shares—Grandpa gave them to me. If they're going to be transferred, he'll have to agree to it first. If you have something to say, you can ask him yourself at the board meeting in three days."

Claire let out a scoff.

"He's my father. You don't seriously think he'd choose an outsider over his own flesh and blood, do you? Fine. I'll see you at the board meeting."

I stretched, rubbed my brow, and headed to my room.

When I opened the door, I found my room had been completely cleared out.

All my things had been bagged up and tossed into the basement. The bedroom with its floor-to-ceiling windows and private bathroom had been turned into a storage room.

They'd arranged for me to stay in the maid's room at the far end of the third floor. It was barely ten square feet, with only a narrow little window.

Arthur smiled at me.

"There aren't any extra rooms in the house, so you'll have to stay here for now. You're lucky, Cillian. When I was in the countryside, I didn't even have a room like this."

His eyes reddened, as if recalling something painful.

I looked at him with a half-smile.

"Funny, though—your hands don't have a single callus. They're soft and pale, not a mark of hard work anywhere. Must be a pretty gentle kind of country life."

Arthur's face went stiff.

Olivia immediately rushed to his defense.

"Cillian, making fun of Arthur's suffering is like rubbing salt in his wounds. You really are as vicious as ever."

I was momentarily speechless.

Wasn't Arthur the one who brought it up first?

I waved my hand.

"Forget it. You can keep this room for yourselves. I'll just leave."

Seeing me walk out on my own, Arthur's lips twitched into a barely noticeable smile.

When no one was watching, he stepped closer to me. In a voice only the two of us could hear, he murmured, "Cillian, I really should thank you."

I looked at him.

His eyes gleamed with excitement.

"When I first came back to the Harrison family, I was worried it'd be hard to fit in. After all, you'd lived with them for over twenty years—there had to be real bonds there. Isn't that how it always goes in novels? The adopted son is more beloved than the real one."

He let out a soft laugh.

"But I didn't expect you to burn every bridge yourself. Cold to Mom, ignoring your own fiancée, even pushing your best friend away. Tell me—didn't you pave this road for me yourself?"

He stepped back, putting on that obedient face again, but his eyes were pure malice.

"Thanks, Cillian. You're even dumber than I thought."

He seemed to be waiting for me to explode.

Instead, I gave him the same smile right back.

"You're welcome."

…

Three days passed. I stayed in a presidential suite at a hotel.

My phone kept ringing off the hook.

Claire had spread the news that the company was about to change hands, and everyone was frantically trying to reach me for inside information.

I ignored every single call.

To celebrate his soon-to-be-acquired shares, Arthur went on a spending spree with Nathan, hitting up every high-end spot in town.

Since Arthur didn't have any money in his account yet, everything went on Nathan's card.

Watching the balance drop so fast, Nathan felt a flicker of irritation. But then, he thought about the massive payoff Arthur would bring him once he got those shares—and he swallowed his frustration.

On the afternoon of the third day, I walked back into the company. Both sides of the conference table were packed. My grandfather sat at the head, his expression dark and heavy.

When I pushed the door open, every pair of eyes in the room snapped toward me.

"He actually showed up." Someone let out a low scoff.

Most people were looking at me with barely concealed schadenfreude.

"Everyone," Claire said, rising to her feet, her voice ringing through the room, "I've called this meeting today to announce two important matters.

"First—let me introduce the man beside me. This is my biological son, Arthur, whom I was separated from for twenty-three years. And this man, Cillian, is not a Harrison."

The room filled with applause.

Claire smiled, satisfied, and continued.

"Second—Cillian will be formally resigning from all positions at Harrison Corp. today, and transferring all of his shares to Arthur, free of charge."

The applause grew louder.

A few shareholders even stood up to cheer. "Congratulations, Arthur. What was stolen will always be returned in the end."

Arthur was surrounded by the crowd, accepting congratulations and flattery. He shot a glance my way, his eyes dripping with smugness.

Olivia was also at the meeting. She walked up to me and announced, loud enough for everyone to hear, "I'd like to officially inform everyone that my engagement to Cillian has long been called off. In one month, Arthur and I will be engaged. He's the man I truly love."

More congratulations rippled through the room. Everyone looked thrilled, buzzing with anticipation.

Claire turned to my grandfather, beaming.

"Dad, hurry up and have Cillian sign the papers—transfer the shares to Arthur.

"Oh, and since Cillian is not really a Harrison, he shouldn't be allowed to take a single thing that belongs to the family. No house, no car, nothing.

"After all, why should a bastard get to benefit from Harrison property?"

All eyes turned to my grandfather.

In the dead silence, he slowly spoke.

"Cillian is my one and only biological grandson. The shares in his name do not need to be transferred to anyone."