Shaking off the deeply unsettling, skin-crawling feeling that Thomas's wife and son were radiating, I turned my attention back to the patriarch of the family. My grandfather leaned forward, heavily resting his weight on his polished cane. The silence in the grand living room was absolute, thick with a palpable tension that could have been cut with a butter knife.
"As you all know, my health is not what it used to be. I am getting older, and the burden of the years is finally catching up with me," he began, his gravelly voice echoing off the vaulted marble ceiling. "I can no longer continue to manage the Green Financial Empire with the vigor it requires. Therefore, I will officially step down from my position as the head of the family and the chairman of the board."
A collective, microscopic shift occurred in the room. Postures straightened, breaths were held. Everyone knew what was coming next.
"It is time to communicate my final decision regarding the succession," he continued, his sharp eyes sweeping across his descendants. "I have decided how I will divide my possessions and shares among those present in this room today."
Before he could even take a breath to detail the split, Thomas—my delightful, snobby uncle—bolted upright from the loveseat, his face flushed with indignation.
"Father, I understand your thoughts on stepping down, and we all respect your legacy," Thomas practically spat, pointing an accusing, manicured finger directly at me. "But why on earth is this boy involved in the succession discussion?! He is an outsider! A street rat who hasn't spent a single day contributing to this family!"
"Silence!" my grandfather roared, the sheer volume and authority of his voice making Thomas physically flinch.
The old man struck the marble floor with the tip of his cane, producing a sharp crack that rang like a gunshot. "It is my empire, Thomas, and it is my final decision. Do not forget that whether he admits it or not, whether you like it or not, he bears the blood of this family. It is his birthright. I intend to make it up to him for all the unimaginable hardships he endured alone, away from our protection."
My grandfather's stern mask cracked for just a fraction of a second, his eyes softening as they flickered toward me. "Additionally, Thomas... he is your sister's son. He is the only piece of her we have left."
I sat in my armchair, perfectly still, observing the chaotic melodrama unfolding before me with complete, detached calm. Internally, however, my mind was racing.
I have an inheritance? I thought, genuinely baffled. Wow. Who knew? I always assumed these pristine, high-society people hated my guts and despised my existence. But it seems the bad blood was strictly an issue between them and my mother. And now, they're throwing money at the problem. Typical.
"But Father, you can't be serious! The board will never—" Thomas attempted to argue, desperation seeping into his arrogant tone.
"There are no 'buts', Thomas! My word is final!" my grandfather glared at him with such intense, freezing fury that it finally shut the man up.
Interestingly, it wasn't just the glare that stopped him. I watched as Mel—Thomas's wife, the woman who gave me the supernatural creeps—gently placed a single, pale hand on her husband's arm. She didn't say a word, just offered a tiny, almost imperceptible shake of her head. Thomas immediately clamped his mouth shut, sinking back into the loveseat, though his face remained a mask of livid fury.
"Now, as I was saying," my grandfather said, smoothing the lapels of his suit. "John will take over my place as the acting head of the group."
He paused, letting the weight of the promotion settle on his eldest son. Uncle Thomas looked as if he had just swallowed a lemon whole, but he remained silent under his wife's eerie grip.
"My personal shares of the Green Financial Group will be divided as follows," the old man announced, pulling a folded piece of heavy parchment from his breast pocket. "Thomas will receive fifteen percent. John will receive twenty-five percent. Maddie and Laure will receive five percent each. Cole will receive five percent. Carrie will receive twenty percent."
He took a deep breath, looking directly into my glowing, vibrant eyes. "And Samsara will receive twenty percent. The remaining five percent will be distributed among the board of directors."
The room descended into a stunned, suffocating silence.
Thomas looked utterly apoplectic, his knuckles turning white as he gripped the armrest of the sofa. But surprisingly, he didn't utter a single word of protest about the actual numbers. Even my newly upgraded, superhuman brain needed a second to process the sheer gravity of what had just happened. I was shocked by the massive percentage he had just dropped in my lap, but looking at the sour faces around the room, I quickly deduced the truth. That twenty percent wasn't a sudden, charitable gift. It was my mother's original, rightful share of the empire.
"The management of the physical family properties and global real estate holdings will be left entirely to Carrie," my grandfather concluded, folding the parchment and tucking it away.
After a heavy, pregnant pause, Uncle John stood up from his seat. He buttoned his suit jacket, his expression solemn and respectful, and offered a deep bow to the patriarch. "Thank you, Father. I swear on my life, I will not disappoint the immense trust you have placed in me."
"I know you won't, John. You never have," my grandfather replied, smiling fondly at his firstborn.
Sitting across the room, Cole and his father, Thomas, were wearing identical, ugly expressions of bitter resentment. The contrast in the family dynamics was glaringly obvious.
My grandmother, who had remained entirely silent and observant throughout the tense proceedings, finally spoke up. Her voice was fragile but warm. "Let's put the business-related matters aside for tonight. It's time for dinner." She turned her gaze to me, her eyes pleading. "Samsara... I sincerely hope you will stay and eat with us?"
I looked at the frail old woman. Despite my hardened heart, I simply didn't have it in me to reject her request. Her eyes held too much regret, too much sorrow for the daughter she had lost.
"Alright," I nodded slowly. "I'll stay for dinner."
We relocated to a dining room that was larger than most public restaurants, featuring a massive, polished mahogany table groaning under the weight of an absolute feast. It was a culinary masterpiece of roasted meats, exotic seafood, and perfectly crafted delicacies, all served on fine china by an army of silent, uniformed staff.
During the incredibly awkward, multi-course meal, I mostly kept to myself, eating quietly while my upgraded senses absorbed every whisper, every micro-expression, and every piece of family gossip casually tossed around the table. By dessert, I had successfully mentally profiled my entire estranged family.
Uncle John, the newly crowned head, was apparently a man of rigid principles. He had married his high school sweetheart and built his own immensely successful enterprise outside of the family's umbrella—a tech conglomerate worth nearly thirty-five billion dollars. He was a self-made titan. I also learned that he had been the only one to fiercely dispute my mother's banishment. In fact, if it hadn't been for Uncle John secretly funneling money to my parents during my early childhood, I would have grown up in the slums from day one. I only ended up in the Coldstone district because my parents, being severe addicts, had burned through his massive financial support by the time I was fifteen.
As for John's daughters, Maddie and Laure, they were certified prodigies attending the most elite, competitive academies in the world, positioned to become the future titans of Nebula City's high society.
Then, there was the tragic truth about my mother. She hadn't just been a rebellious teenager; she had been a brilliant, elite youth with a boundless future ahead of her. But it was Uncle Thomas—the very same man glaring at me across the mashed potatoes—who had introduced her to the underground partying scene and hard drugs. When she spiraled out of control and flatly refused rehab, Thomas was the one who ruthlessly convinced my grandparents to disown her to protect the family's pristine public image.
Speaking of Thomas, his own business empire wasn't self-made at all. He had inherited his massive, ten-billion-dollar fortune solely by marrying into his wife's family, the Wades. His son, Cole, clearly inherited his father's parasitic, self-entitled attitude—the exact same attitude that had cost me my miserable barista job just days ago. I certainly hadn't forgiven him for that.
Ironically, I owed Thomas and Cole a bizarre debt of gratitude. Apparently, the family had entirely lost track of my whereabouts after my parents overdosed. It was specifically because of Cole's 'faux pas' at the coffee shop—having his goons beat up a random barista whose face matched a ghost from the past—that the family's intelligence network managed to finally locate me. So, thanks for the beating, Cole. It really paid off.
Lastly, there was Aunt Carrie. She was a quiet, observing genius. She had completed her masters by the age of seventeen, spent four years traveling the globe, and returned to build a revolutionary pharmaceutical company currently valued at sixteen billion dollars. At twenty-seven, she was fiercely independent, incredibly wealthy, and famously unmarried despite legions of high-profile suitors.
Putting all these staggering numbers together, I realized that my family was truly, profoundly, filthy rich. The Green Financial Empire's total worth sat at a staggering one hundred and forty-five billion dollars. It wasn't just wealthy; it was continent-ruling, untouchable money.
And I possessed twenty percent of it.
I chewed slowly on a piece of perfectly seared Wagyu beef, doing the mental math. Twenty percent of one hundred and forty-five billion. That's twenty-nine billion dollars. I am a multi-billionaire.
A sudden, intense wave of profound annoyance washed over me. Damn it! If I had known I was going to inherit twenty-nine billion dollars today, I would have never, ever signed that stupid, highly dangerous fake-boyfriend deal with the devil vampire, Chloe! What is ten million dollars compared to this?! I sold my life and my neck for pocket change!
Despite my internal financial grievances, the rest of the evening passed relatively smoothly. I found myself warming up slightly to my grandmother, who meticulously ensured my plate was never empty, fussing over me with a desperate, heartbreaking affection.
When the sun finally dipped below the horizon, painting the sky in deep shades of violet and bruised purple, I politely said my goodbyes and exited the towering mansion.
I walked down the sprawling, tree-lined private avenue toward the massive Blue Gates, intending to catch a city bus back to my new apartment. The irony of a newly minted billionaire taking public transit wasn't lost on me.
As I strolled beneath the flickering vintage streetlamps, the cool night air brushing against my face, I was lost in deep contemplation about how violently my status had shifted in just a few short hours. Yesterday, I was an orphaned high-school dropout who had just crawled his way out of a muddy, shallow grave. Today, I was the youngest heir to an unfathomable financial empire.
I used to curse the heavens for my spectacularly bad luck. But now? Dying in that dirty alleyway triggered my glitchy supernatural awakening. Getting my head chopped off by a jealous pseudo-vampire made me exponentially stronger and landed me a two-million-dollar down payment. Getting fired from a café led me straight to a twenty-nine-billion-dollar inheritance. It seemed my miserable life was just a prolonged, twisted setup for the most insane winning streak in human history.
I let out a long, emotional sigh, feeling utterly overwhelmed and entirely lost in this bizarre new reality.
Just as I reached the edge of the Blue Gate district, a sleek, heavily customized luxury sedan slowly rolled up beside me on the quiet street. The engine purred like a caged beast before coming to a smooth, silent stop just a few feet away.
The heavy doors clicked open, and three figures stepped out onto the pristine pavement.
It was my second uncle, Thomas, his deeply unsettling wife, Mel, and my absolute favorite cousin, Cole. They stood in the glow of the streetlamp, blocking my path, their expressions cloaked in the shadows. The supernatural, skin-crawling aura radiating from Mel and Cole was stronger now, suffocating and predatory in the dark.
I stopped walking. I didn't reach for a weapon. I didn't take a step back. I just looked at the three of them, my upgraded muscles loosely coiled and ready to snap at a moment's notice.
A chilling, effortlessly innocent smile spread across my flawless face.
"Oh? It's you, Uncle. Aunt. Even my dear cousin," I said, my voice dripping with honeyed, razor-sharp sweetness. "To what do I owe the absolute pleasure of this midnight stroll?"