LOGINThe returned Heir
Laird’s gaze flickered sideways. Alastair’s jaw tightened almost imperceptibly. “…That’s partly why I’m here.” Hero leaned back, “Soooo…” he exhaled slowly, “does she not remember you.” “It’s not that simple,” Alastair bit. Laird hummed low and deep. “It most certainly never is with you.” Before Alastair could respond, the door opened again—but this time more carefully. Mrs. Sinclair returned with a tray, placing it down with practiced precision. Tea, coffee, and a bunch of pastries filled the space between them like a quiet ceasefire. Pouring him a steaming cup of hot chocolate, she glanced at him. “With marshmallows I presume.” Alastair smiled wide, “why of course. Can’t have it any other way.” “You know,” she added casually, “word travels fast in this city. Faster when it involves you.” Alastair met her gaze. “I noticed.” Her eyes narrowed slightly. “Then you’ll also know she’s not how you remember her.” The room went still, Hero stopped mid-reach for another piece of pecan pie. Laird’s expression sharpened. “You mean...” Mrs. Sinclair nodded once. “Miss Beaumont hasn’t been the same for quite a while.” The name didn’t need explaining. Alastair didn’t move. But something in the air around him changed—like that moment where a storm decided whether it would break through a city or pass. “…interesting,” he says quietly. Hero blinked. “That’s your reaction?” Alastair turned from the window, voice calm. Too calm. “It means the banquet just became interesting.” *** That evening, just as they had all agreed, they met up in front of Alastair’s mansion. Dressed to impress in pristine suits, the three men looked like moving temptations, if sin got a glimpse of them now, it’d tip its hat at the worthy rivals that became them. “You two clean up nicely. Best get going.” Alastair acknowledged. “Can’t pass on an opportunity at re-introducing you to society. What would dear old grandpa say?” Hero joked. Love story (Version Orchestrale) by Indila blasted through the night, Alastair casually reached for his phone. “Is that… ouuuuu someone never forgets.” Hero teased. “It would appear so.” Laird smirked. “The man himself.” Alastair said, excusing himself and picking up the call. “Good evening grandfather.” “Altair dear boy…” the voices faded in the background as Alastair walked further away from his friends. The two shared a knowing look, then stared at his retreating figure with matching amused expressions. A few minutes later, Alastair came back to find his two friends looking like over heated kettles about to explode. “Fine, out with it you lot.” “We didn’t say anything.” Laird’s smooth monotone voice cut in. Hero smiled cheekily. “Nice ringtone by the way. Didn’t take you as one for sentiments.” Alastair sighed deeply. “Now you know.” Clearing his throat, he added. “That was grandfather, he wanted to know if we’d arrived already. Apparently, he has something to tell me once I arrive there.” This time round, none of the two spoke up. Hero looked away, Laird’s face became devoid of any emotion as he stared at the concrete in concentration. Alastair noticed this, knowing the two of them for as long as he had. He immediately deduced that something was up. Instead of a confrontation, he decided to give it time. After all, whatever it was he’d know eventually. “I believe we best be on our way. I’ll ring up Elliot to bring the car around.” “Please, you just got back. Allow me.” Laird offered, picking up his cell, and dialing Elliot’s ringer. Beep. Beep. “Hello, Elliot speaking.” “Elliot. It’s Laird. We’re ready.” “I’ll be right there sir.” Ten minutes later, the three were seated comfortably in the back of a limo as they’re taken to their destination. “Good to see you Elliot.” “The pleasure’s all mine, welcome back. I missed you, sir.” “Missed you too Elliot. Keep up the good work.” “Will do.” The car ride was quiet as Alastair took in the view of his home town. While Hero and Laird pondered about what his reaction would be to the news—rather the announcement his father had set up for him. Alastair’s mind drifted into carrying out his plans. The whole reason he came back here wasn’t just because he had to, no. He had unfinished business, and unfortunately for him it involved someone who was once dear to him. Actually, still is because nobody could ever change that, not even her. Or so he thought. “We’re here.” Elliot announced, bringing the three of men back to reality. The three of them stepped out, walking towards the entrance where they each presented their invitations. After all, the party was invite only. “Quite the number here.” Alastair noted. “Lucky for me, none of them seem to recognize me.” He chuckles. “You might be right there, but that doesn’t stop all the staring we’re getting.” Hero said, winking at a couple of ladies smiling their way. Laird noticed Alastair looking around. “You seem to be looking for something. Or should I say someone.” “Hmm, just… observing.” “Yeah, right. She’s not yet here. Besides who’s to say—“ “Hold that thought.” Alastair reached for his vibrating phone. “Grandfather. Excuse me, you two.” Hero sighed softly. “He’ll know soon enough I suppose.” “Hush.” Laird muttered. “Members of the elite” the announcer proclaimed smoothly into the microphone, “please welcome our very own Mr. Gabriell Keller.” And in that moment, a man presumed to be Keller walked into the room. Miss Beaumont, latched onto his arm like a leech. Alastair returned, his face devoid of any emotion as he watched the couple walk in. Or, to be more specific— the woman his father had set up an engagement with. The very miss Beaumont he’d never stopped loving. But he knew better than to think that she was the same woman he met years ago. After all, his intellect wasn’t a myth. The three men watched the crowd, they watched as the scene unraveled right at the tip of their noses. “Seems Gabriel Keller plays with more than just business deals.” Laird commented just as the woman dressed in black faced what they presumed was a humiliation of a lifetime. “I need air.” With that, Alastair strode out of the banquet hall.The misplaced Heiress “I’m Altair.” Miaelle looked him up and down. Aside from the perfectly tailored suit wrapped around him, she also noticed the watch peeking from beneath his sleeve. And his shoes seemed rather painfully expensive. Wealth that didn’t need introductions because it assumed the room already knew who it was. Which was strange because she had no idea who he was. And she should have. Elite circles weren’t that large. Especially not the circles Gabriell spent years trying to claw his way into despite his own wealthy background. Alastair gestured towards the room. “This is my friend’s place. He lets me stay here sometimes, when I’m a little low on rent.” Miaelle paused mid thought… What? Him — low on rent? Impossible! She almost laughed out loud at the absurdity of the idea, he looked like he’d never known a life without money in his entire life. He must have read the disbelief plastered across her face, because before she could decide whether to say anythin
The misplaced Heiress Miaelle sat at the table, disoriented, the room swimming faintly at its edges. The night kept replaying itself in fragments — Gabriell’s hand covering Mia’s, the flash of cameras, the humiliation and the whispers she could still hear if she let herself listen. Up until when somewhere in the middle of all that noise, a stranger had appeared out of the dangerous downpour and offered her a way out, and she’d taken it without asking a single question. He never asked where she wanted to go, and honestly, she wouldn’t have known how to answer. Home wasn’t an option — not the wretched apartment she’d shared with Gabriell, and certainly not the world she’d spent years hiding from everyone but her own family. So when she woke to find herself at The Eyrie penthouse, it should have terrified her to death. It didn’t, though. Not really. It was in fact one of maybe a dozen addresses in the city built purely for people who didn’t want to be seen wanting anything. Small
The cheating Fiancé Meanwhile, back at the banquet. Gabriell watched Miaelle disappear through the doors and something in his chest pulled tight. I should go after her—he thought. His feet even shifted toward the exit before he stopped himself, catching sight of the room still watching him, waiting to see what he’d do next. He realized then, that he couldn’t. Not now. Not with Mia’s hand still resting where he’d left it, and the promotion still one careful step from being locked down. He’d spent four years getting here — sleepless nights, missed dinners, favors called in and owed back twice over. He wasn’t about to let one scene, however ugly, undo any of it. Lightning split the sky outside, throwing a white flash across the glass wall behind them. “Do you think she’ll be okay out there?” Mia asked, voice soft, eyes wide in a way that portrayed her feigned concern well. He shrugged. “She’ll come back. She’s not going to get far.” He scoffed. “Besides, she can’t let go of me that
The returned Heir Alastair’s grip tightened on the phone as he stared at the woman in the obsidian dress run down the pathway. It was her. The same woman who, seconds ago, had collided straight into him — breath ragged, eyes wide with something he hadn’t had time to name before she’d wrenched herself free and bolted, leaving him standing there like a fool, achingly aware of a scent he couldn’t place and a face he already knew he wouldn’t forget. He hadn’t caught her name. He didn’t need to. He’d watched what happened to her inside the ballroom not an hour before that — Keller’s hand over Mia Beaumont’s, the whispers rippling through the crowd, the tears she refused to let fall in front of a room full of people who thrived on exactly that kind of spectacle. He’d stood there longer than he should have, fists clenched at his sides, wondering what it would take to walk over and put a stop to it himself. In the end he’d told himself he only wanted air. He hadn’t expected the air to
The returned Heir Laird’s gaze flickered sideways. Alastair’s jaw tightened almost imperceptibly. “…That’s partly why I’m here.” Hero leaned back, “Soooo…” he exhaled slowly, “does she not remember you.” “It’s not that simple,” Alastair bit. Laird hummed low and deep. “It most certainly never is with you.” Before Alastair could respond, the door opened again—but this time more carefully. Mrs. Sinclair returned with a tray, placing it down with practiced precision. Tea, coffee, and a bunch of pastries filled the space between them like a quiet ceasefire. Pouring him a steaming cup of hot chocolate, she glanced at him. “With marshmallows I presume.” Alastair smiled wide, “why of course. Can’t have it any other way.” “You know,” she added casually, “word travels fast in this city. Faster when it involves you.” Alastair met her gaze. “I noticed.” Her eyes narrowed slightly. “Then you’ll also know she’s not how you remember her.” The room went still, Hero stopped mid-reach f
The returned Heir Alastair Artair Aarhil sat in his office, staring through the glass walls at the morning sky as streaks of orange bled across the horizon. It was his first day back in the city, and word of his return had already spread. After all, he was the heir to Aarhil Group Corporation. Fortunately for him, very few people actually knew what he looked like beyond his family and closest friends. And hopefully… she would remember him too. The office doors swung open. A broad man stepped inside, standing at least six-foot-one, draped in a black suit that probably cost more than most people’s yearly salaries. He was a sharp contrast to Alastair’s cream slacks and casual long-sleeved Sunspel shirt. “Well, well, well” the man drawled darkly. “Look what the cat finally dragged in.” “Get. Out,” Alastair said, amusement leaking through his thick accent despite the years he’d spent away from home. “Now is that any way to greet your oldest friend, buddy?” Alastair laughed sof







