Chapter 6: The Reckless Heir

Seven Years Ago

“You’re not listening to me, Elena.”

“I am, Mum.”

I wasn’t.

I was staring at the road, but all I could see were numbers. Debts. Deadlines. The weight my father had left behind.

“They came again yesterday,” she said. “I can’t keep telling them to wait.”

My grip tightened around my phone. “I’ll handle it.”

“How?”

I didn’t answer.

“Elena—”

“I’ll call you back,” I said quickly. “I’m crossing the road.”

A pause. Then she spoke softly, “Be careful.”

“I will.”

I lowered the phone but didn’t hang up. Just for a second, I stood there, breathing, steadying myself.

Then I stepped forward.

The engine came out of nowhere.

Loud. Fast. Too close.

My head snapped up–

Headlights.

Everything froze.

A sharp screech split the air as the bike swerved violently, missing me by inches. The force of it pushed me back, my heart slamming as the rider barely kept control before stopping a few meters away.

Silence followed.

Then I ran.

“I’m so sorry, are you okay?”

The words spilled out as I reached him. He was still on the bike, but it had fallen to the side, shoulders tense, one foot grounded.

He looked up at me.

Young. That was the first thing I noticed.… young in a way that felt dangerous, like he lived too fast and hadn’t been stopped.

“You should watch where you’re going,” he said, his voice low. Controlled.

Guilt hit immediately. “I know, I wasn’t looking–” I stopped, eyes catching on his arm. “You’re bleeding.”

It was just a scrape, not so deep, but it was enough.

“This is my fault. Hold on.”

I was already digging through my bag. He didn’t stop me. Didn’t move. Just watched. I stepped closer and took his arm carefully. His skin was warm. The thought flickered and passed as I pressed my handkerchief against the injury.

“Sorry,” I murmured.

“You almost got yourself killed,” he said.

I glanced up, and our eyes met fully. Something shifted.

A quiet pull that made my chest feel tight for no reason.

“I know,” I said softly, looking away first.

I finished cleaning the wound and pulled out a Band-Aid. “This might sting.”

He didn’t react as I placed it over the injury.

“There,” I said, stepping back. “It’s not much, but…”

Silence settled.

He was still watching me.

“I’m really sorry,” I added. “And… thank you.”

A faint twitch at the corner of his mouth. “Next time, don’t step in front of moving vehicles.”

A small, embarrassed laugh slipped out. “I’ll try.”

Another pause.

For a moment, the world narrowed, just him, just me, just the space between.

Then it faded.

Like something pressing down on it.

I blinked, frowning slightly, like I’d forgotten something.

He shifted, swinging onto the bike.

“I should go.”

“Oh—yes.” I stepped back. “Drive safely.”

He paused, glancing briefly at his arm, at the band-aid, before looking back at me.

“What’s your name?”

“Elena.”

He nodded once.

Then he was gone.

The sound of the engine faded quickly, leaving the street quiet again.

I stood there a moment longer, trying to hold onto… something.

But it slipped.

It was nothing more than a near accident.

I picked up my phone.

“Mum?”

“Elena! What happened?”

“I’m fine,” I said. “Just… almost got hit.”

*******

The old man didn’t like silence. However, the machines' beeping covered the silence.

“Elena.”

“Yes, sir?”

“You’re drifting again,” he chuckled weakly 

I straightened immediately, adjusting the blanket over his legs. “Sorry.”

His eyes lingered on me, sharp despite his age. Nothing escaped him.

“You carry too much in your head,” he said.

I didn’t respond. 

The room smelled faintly of medicine and polished wood. Large, quiet, expensive. Everything about this room felt controlled.

Except him.

He leaned back slightly, exhaling. “Do you know why I keep you?”

The question caught me off guard. “Because I’m your caregiver.”

A faint scoff. “I have many of those.”

I stayed silent.

“You listen,” he said. “Even when you don’t speak.”

I lowered my gaze. “Thank you, sir.”

A pause.

Then, “I have a grandson.”

I looked up slightly.

“He has no parents,” the old man continued. “Lost them both too early.” His tone didn’t soften, but something in it shifted. “So everything falls to me. My name. My legacy. Him.”

I adjusted his pillow, carefully and attentively.

“He’s reckless,” he went on. “Too fast. Too careless. Like he thinks nothing can touch him.”

A brief pause.

“And one day, something will.”

Something in the way he said it made my chest tighten.

“He doesn’t listen,” the old man added. “Doesn’t stay still. Always chasing something.”

“Maybe he’ll grow out of it,” I said quietly.

The old man’s lips curved faintly. “No.”

No hesitation.

“He won’t,” he said. “People like him don’t slow down. They crash.”

The word lingered.

Crash.

I swallowed, pushing the thought away. “You care about him.”

“I invested in him,” he corrected.

But it wasn’t entirely true.

I could hear it.

“He’ll inherit everything,” the old man continued. “Whether he deserves it or not.”

Silence stretched.

Then, more quietly, “And he will ruin it if he doesn’t learn.”

I didn’t know what to say to that.

His gaze shifted to the window, distant now. “If I had more time…”

He didn’t finish. I adjusted the blanket again, smoothing it just to have something to do. “Rest, sir,” I said softly.

He didn’t argue.

But as I turned to leave, he spoke again.

“Elena.”

I paused.

“When you meet him,” he said, “you’ll understand.”

A strange feeling settled in my chest.

“I don’t think I will, sir,” I replied gently.

He didn’t respond.