CHAPTER FOUR: Inheritance of Fire
925 Words
CHAPTER FOUR
Inheritance of Fire
Claire nearly dropped her phone when the message came through.
“Congratulations. You’ve been selected for the secretary position at Morningstar Enterprise.”
She stared at the screen, barely breathing.
“Elsa!” she gasped, calling immediately. “I got it! I got the job!”
The squeal on the other end was so loud she had to pull the phone away.
“I told you!” Elsa shouted. “You were born for this. Wait till Mrs. Peters hears this—we’re celebrating tonight!”
Claire glanced at Anne, asleep on the couch, cheeks flushed but no longer feverish. For the first time in forever, something had finally gone right.
Across the city, night had begun to stretch across the skyline, coating glass towers in molten orange and deep violet.
Luke Morningstar adjusted his cuffs as he stepped out of his car. The gates of the Morningstar estate opened slowly, revealing a sprawling mansion lit like a palace. Laughter and music spilled from the main hall—forced, calculated joy.
He braced himself.
Family dinners in the Morningstar clan were rarely about food. They were wars in disguise.
As he entered, he was greeted with a chorus of smiles too white and too wide. Aunts in designer gowns. Uncles in imported suits. Cousins with daggers behind their eyes.
Luke’s jaw clenched.
“Look who decided to show up,” a voice drawled. It was Daniel, his cousin, who always wore arrogance like perfume. “The billionaire baby himself.”
Luke didn’t rise to the bait.
Another cousin chimed in, fake sweet. “Tell us, Luke, how does it feel to run half the city before you’re even thirty?”
The air in the room was heavy with jealousy. They’d always hated that his father handed him a legacy. They ignored the fact that Luke had multiplied that legacy tenfold.
He moved past them to the head of the table, where a chair was being wheeled in—his grandfather.
Jeremiah Morningstar.
A legend in his own time, now frail with age but eyes still sharp as razors.
“Sit,” the old man croaked. “Let’s get this dinner over with. I’ve got something to say.”
Everyone obeyed, plates barely touched as silence fell.
Jeremiah lifted his glass.
“My time is almost up,” he said simply. “But I have one last condition for my will.”
Luke tensed.
Jeremiah continued, “Whoever among you marries first—and marries well—will be given control of the remaining half of Morningstar Empire.”
Gasps and murmurs rippled through the room.
“But Grandpa—”
“Silence,” the old man snapped. “This is my legacy. I want to see it in stable hands before I go. A stable marriage means a stable heir.”
Luke sat stone still. The weight of that decree settled heavily on his chest.
Marriage? That wasn’t part of the plan. Not now. Not ever.
He thought of the empty penthouse. The loneliness he’d learned to wear like armor.
Then, as if the night weren’t cruel enough, another cousin leaned close, voice low.
“Hope you learned to swim, Luke.”
The memory sliced through him like a blade. That summer long ago. The pool. Being pushed under. The rush of cold water. The panic. The sinking.
It was Mark who pulled him out.
Mark, the only one in this viper nest who’d ever stood beside him.
Later that night, Luke stood alone on the balcony, whiskey in hand, the city glittering below him. The celebration inside had turned into scheming. He could feel it. His family would claw their way to that inheritance if he didn’t act fast.
A soft knock pulled him from his thoughts. It was his mother.
She looked tired, her beauty dimmed by something more than age.
“Come,” she said. “We need to talk.”
They sat in her room. She reached for his hand, trembling.
“I’ve kept this from you,” she said, voice barely a whisper. “But the doctors… they say it’s terminal. Stage four.”
Luke’s heart stopped.
“No,” he breathed. “Mom—”
“There’s no time,” she said, eyes shining. “Promise me one thing.”
“Anything.”
“Get married, Luke. Before I go. Let me see you settled. Let me know you’re not alone.”
Luke clutched her hand to his chest, breaking. His mother was the one light in the chaos of his life. The only person who had truly loved him.
“I will,” he whispered. “I promise.”
After she’d fallen asleep, he stepped outside and called Mark.
“We need to talk,” Luke said, voice hoarse.
Minutes later, Mark joined him in the study, already sensing the storm behind his friend’s eyes.
“She’s dying,” Luke said simply.
Mark nodded, solemn.
“She asked me to get married.”
Mark raised an eyebrow. “You’re serious?”
“She’s never asked me for anything. I’m not letting her die without peace.”
Mark hesitated. “Then we need someone who won’t expect forever.”
Luke’s gaze darkened. “A contract marriage.”
Mark nodded slowly. “Clean. Fast. Practical.”
Luke exhaled, rubbing his jaw. “We’ll draw up a list. Reach out to a few connections.”
He didn’t say it, but somewhere, just beneath the surface, those brown eyes flickered in his memory.
Eyes like a blaze.
- Writer
