Chapter 1 - The Man They Were Ashamed Of
The first thing my mother said when she saw me was:
"Please don't come inside."
I stood at the front gate of the Bellamy estate, holding one cheap suitcase in my hand.
It had been seven years since I left.
Seven years since my father told me I was a disappointment.
Seven years since my older brother, Marcus, laughed and said I would never become anything.
And seven years since my mother hugged me in the driveway and whispered:
"Don't come back until you have something to be proud of."
Now I was back.
And I had nothing.
At least, that's what they thought.
My name is Ethan Bellamy.
I was thirty-four years old.
And after seven years away, I returned to the only home I'd ever known wearing a faded jacket, worn sneakers, and carrying a suitcase with a broken wheel.
My mother looked at me through the half-open gate.
She didn't recognize me at first.
Then her face changed.
"Ethan?"
I smiled.
"Hi, Mom."
She looked behind me.
No expensive car.
No girlfriend.
No business partner.
No suitcase full of designer clothes.
Just me.
Her eyes filled with disappointment before she could hide it.
"Where are you staying?"
"I haven't decided yet."
She lowered her voice.
"Your father is inside."
"I know."
"He won't be happy."
"I didn't come here to ask him for money."
She stared at me.
"Then why did you come?"
I looked at the house.
Seven years ago, I had left through the same gate with nothing but two hundred dollars in my pocket.
Now I had returned with something worth more than everything inside that house.
But nobody knew that.
"I just wanted to see my family."
My mother opened the gate halfway.
Then stopped.
"Ethan..."
"Yeah?"
"Maybe you should come another day."
I looked at her.
"Why?"
She hesitated.
"Your brother is having people over tonight."
I understood immediately.
She was embarrassed.
Embarrassed that her son had come home looking poor.
Before I could answer, a black Mercedes pulled into the driveway.
My brother Marcus stepped out.
Thirty-seven.
Perfect suit.
Expensive watch.
Confident smile.
He looked at me.
Then at my suitcase.
Then laughed.
"You've got to be kidding me."
My mother whispered:
"Marcus, please."
He ignored her.
"Seven years."
He walked toward me slowly.
"Seven years, and this is what you came back with?"
I didn't answer.
He looked at my shoes.
Then my jacket.
Then the broken wheel on my suitcase.
"You always said you were going to build something bigger than Dad's company."
He smiled.
"What happened?"
I simply said:
"I did."
Marcus laughed.
"Sure you did."
Then the front door opened.
My father stood there.
Richard Bellamy.
Sixty-three.
Founder of Bellamy Holdings.
A man whose name appeared on buildings across the city.
He looked at me for several seconds.
No smile.
No hug.
Nothing.
Then he looked at my mother.
"Why is he here?"
My mother lowered her eyes.
"I don't know."
I looked directly at my father.
"I came home."
He stepped outside.
"You should have called."
"I did."
"When?"
"Every week for three years."
His face changed slightly.
My mother looked at him.
Marcus stopped smiling.
I reached into my jacket.
My father watched carefully.
I pulled out a small black envelope.
"I didn't come back for money."
I handed it to him.
"I came back because I need you to sign something."
He didn't take it.
"What is it?"
"A transfer agreement."
Marcus laughed.
"Transfer what?"
I looked at him.
"The company."
Silence.
My father finally took the envelope.
He opened it.
His eyes moved across the first page.
Then froze.
For the first time since I arrived, the powerful man who owned half the city looked genuinely shocked.
"What is this?"
I said nothing.
He looked at me.
Then at the document.
Then back at me.
"You can't own this."
Marcus stepped closer.
"What the hell is going on?"
My father looked at him.
His face had gone pale.
"Ethan..."
He lowered his voice.
"Where did you get this company?"
I smiled for the first time.
"That's the part you should be worried about."
Because the company listed on that document wasn't just one of Bellamy Holdings' competitors.
It was the company that had secretly purchased forty-eight percent of Bellamy Holdings six months earlier.
And the person who had been buying those shares...
was me.
May you like
I hadn't come home poor.
I had come home as the person who could decide whether my father's empire survived.
