Legacy Riders Novels & Stories

"The Legacy isn't built on truth; it’s built on the image of perfection. You came back from that island a hero, a survivor. But now?" ​The lawyer paused, his eyes shifting toward the door. He had seen my shadow. He looked at me, his gaze analytical and cold, then turned back to Luke with a final, devastating warning. ​"This is bad, Luke. You will lose the legacy if I am guessing it right." Luke’s head snapped up. "What is that supposed to mean?" "You know exactly what I mean, kid."

“I thought those were just nightmares.” “They were your memories that were suppressed due to the trauma,” Victor corrected gently. Silence stretched between them. For the first time ever, his past was starting to make sense. It was not just a blank slate. But….. “Why now? I have spent years being unaware of my identity. Why are you telling me this now?” “Because the enemies responsible for the tragedy of the Cross estate have resurfaced.” Victor said gravely. “The Cross elders recently tracked movements of the organization responsible for the attack on Cross estate.”

“Legacy and three others will meet us in Miami. It’s not ideal, but they aren’t in the city right now and it doesn’t make any sense for them to come back when we are heading out tonight, anyway.” “And this Legacy is who exactly?” I rolled my eyes. Why did they always have to have such stupid nicknames? “He’s trained in…?” “He’s an ex-marine,” Elodie whispered, and all eyes turned to her in surprise. Too late, she realised she had spoken out loud. She visibly shook herself, straightening her shoulders. “Jesus, I can’t do this.” She was on her feet in a second, her phone gripped in her hand. “If you will excuse me.”

The coffee in my mug lost all its heat. The warm, sunlit kitchen hardened into a diorama of a life we’d just been living, now under glass and observation. Keila, sensing the shift in atmospheric pressure, looked between us, her shoelace forgotten. “What’s a legacy system?” she asked. “A problem from a previous version,” Luther said, his voice deliberately even. He placed the tablet face down on the counter. “One we will solve. Finish your breakfast, Keila. Optimal day requires optimal fuel.”

I break eye contact, unable to look at his intense expression as I explain myself, “it belongs to Lazarus. He shouldn’t lose his spot as a Legacy just so I can be up here with the rest of you.” “That’s the thing,” Atticus continues. “Lazarus understands this as well as anyone. Legacy seats cannot be purchased. His family should have NEVER been offered a spot here. He is not a direct descendant of Jedidiah Adare. This room should have remained empty until you or another of your line could take it.” “But I’m the last Adare,” I explain. “And only because my grandfather chooses to claim me” I sigh. “How am I any more deserving than Lazarus? It doesn’t feel right or fair.”

My legacy. My warning.

In the end, they knew that love and legacy would only hold meaning if shared and strengthened through the unity of all. The End

Grandfather offering alcohol at the start of a conversation is never good. "You've done well with the Asian expansion," he says, swirling the liquid in his glass. "Better than I expected." "Thank you." I keep my voice level, hiding my surprise at the rare compliment. "The board is impressed. The shareholders are pleased." He takes a small sip. "You're becoming the man I always hoped you would be." My grip tightens on the glass. The praise feels like the calm before a storm. "The Lancaster name carries weight," he continues. "Respect. History. Responsibility. It's not just a name, Adrian. It's a legacy."

“You’re kidding.” Fred looked at him straight. “The Lu legacy… might just be a story of the past.