The Call
1061 Words
The city air was colder than it should’ve been for early spring. Liam sat on the curb outside the Montgomery estate, watching black cars and other fancy rides, drive by one after the other, and their laughter echoing behind tinted windows.
He hadn’t spoken a word since he walked out.
But he had not stopped thinking since then and even before then. His heart was heavy. Who was he going to blame for his pathetic situation?
"I am really pathetic", he thought in his head. "Who continues to stay where he is not welcomed and with people who do not want nor appreciate him?"
He scoffed in self mockery. Who else but himself - Liam Carter.
He may not be rich but he had tried to make himself useful. Helping out in ways he knew how including doing domestic chores but they had never appreciated that. Instead it had increased their ridicule and humiliation of him.
His phone buzzed in his pocket. He ignored it. It must be one of the Montgomerys, wanting to humiliate him even more.
Or maybe, Natalie, wanting him to come back. But he couldn't do that. Not anymore. He had to be a man and stand firm.
She never valued him. Never thought he was worthy of her. Maybe she did at first but the weak firethey might have had had grown to cold soot.
Had Charles not asked him to hide himself in the kitchen so he wouldn't embarrass them before the press and so the press would not remember he existed? That was during the birthday celebration of their father.
He sighed. He was that much of an embarrassment and shame to them.
All because he was not wealthy. Yet they had never thought to ask him to come work in any of their numerous companies.
And why was that? Well, because they had never accepted him and didn't want to help him be a man of his own.
He sighed again.
It buzzed again. Then again.
He looked to check the caller ID
Unknown Number.
He let it ring to voicemail.
Then it rang again. Same number. Five times in a row.
He finally answered, voice dry. “Yeah?”
“Mr. Liam Carter?” The voice was crisp. British. Formal.
“Who’s asking?” he asked, surprised. He had been expecting to hear a familiar voice, taunting. Sarcastic. Provoking him...
“This is Samuel Voss, personal solicitor to the late Reginald Hawthorne.”
Liam’s brow furrowed. “I think you’ve got the wrong guy.”
“I don’t,” the man said. “And I urge you not to hang up. The matter is urgent. And… personal.”
Liam stood slowly. “Go on.”
There was a pause. Then: “You are the biological grandson of Mr. Hawthorne. A blood heir.”
“I don’t have family", he revealed.
“Not anymore,” Voss said gently. “Your mother was disowned by the Hawthorne family before you were born. For marrying beneath her. You were hidden. For your protection, we assume. But we’ve confirmed the DNA.”
Liam leaned against a lamppost, suddenly light-headed. “What the hell is this?”
“It’s an inheritance notice, sir. Reginald Hawthorne passed last week. As per his final will, you are the sole heir to his estate and controlling shares in Hawthorne Industries.”
Silence.
Liam blinked. “You’re serious."
“As a heart attack, sir. I’ve sent a car. It will reach your location in five minutes. If you would prefer to decline—”
“No.” Liam straightened. His heart pounded in his chest, hot and wild. “No, I’ll be ready.”
“Good. And Mr. Carter?”
“Yes?”
“I suggest you prepare yourself. Because the world you knew… is about to hate the man you’ll become.”
The line went dead.
He was really serious. It was no joke and Liam could feel his heart pounding with excitement and expectation as he awaited the car to pick him up.
"What if this was a set up?" he thought to himself.
Well only one way to find out and what had he got to lose? It couldn't be worse than all he had been passing through at the Montgomerys.
An Hour Later – Downtown Manhattan
The office building stood like a monolith of glass and steel. Liam stepped through the private elevator doors, heart hammering as they rose past sixty floors. Voss met him at the top.
Tall. Immaculate suit. Polished English manners.
“Mr. Carter.” He extended a hand. “Welcome home.”
Inside the penthouse boardroom, files were already laid out. A portrait of an older man — cold eyes, regal posture — stared down from the wall.
Reginald Hawthorne. Billionaire industrialist. Ruthless businessman. The kind of man newspapers worshiped and rivals feared.
“You look like him,” Voss said, studying Liam. “He would’ve hated that.”
Liam sat down slowly. “Why me?” he asked, pinching himself to be sure this was real. The pain told him clearly, "This is no dream. It was reality. His reality."
“He had no other heirs. And your mother… he never forgave her. But at the end, guilt won. He left everything to her child.” He pushed forward a contract. “And now that child owns 72% of the most powerful private holding company in New York.”
Liam stared at the numbers. The names. The stock options. The properties.
Unbelievable!
Could this really be all for him? He, a worthless loser?
“You’ll need training. A public mask. You’ll need to disappear for a while, then re-emerge as someone new. And there will be enemies, Mr. Carter.”
Liam's jaw tightened. He remembered the Montgomerys.
“I’ve had enemies all my life. I’m used to it", he answered.
Voss smiled. “Good. Then let’s begin.”
Back at the Montgomery Mansion...
Natalie stepped out onto the balcony, looking at the empty space where Liam had stood just hours ago. Her champagne glass was half-full, her fingers tight around the stem.
She hadn’t meant for her father to say that. Not out loud.
She told herself she didn’t care.
But something in her chest twisted. Something... unsettled.
Her phone buzzed.
Breaking News: Reginald Hawthorne’s Mysterious Grandson Inherits Empire. Identity Yet Unknown.
- Writer
