Peter Cole was failing, not metaphorically, not in some abstract "oh I'm struggling with life" way he was failing hard. Advanced Econometrics, finals week, the professor staring at him with that patented mixture of pity and disgust that made grown men reconsider their entire existence.
He stared at the scribbled equations on the whiteboard, numbers swimming in chaotic patterns that seemed to mock him personally. Two hours ago, he had been confident, maybe even smug, now, he wanted nothing more than to crawl under the desk and disappear.
His phone buzzed. One buzz. Two. Three. Unknown number. Peter stared at it, instinctively annoyed. Finals week rule number one: nothing interrupts a desperate attempt at survival not even a phone call, he ignored it.
The professor's voice droned on about stochastic matrices, but Peter could barely hear it, his heart raced, something about the persistent buzzing gnawed at the back of his mind.
"Mr. Cole," the professor said suddenly, "If your attention is elsewhere, perhaps you'd like to leave and avoid further embarrassment."
Peter muttered a half-hearted apology, and stormed out, he took a deep breath and answered the phone in the hallway.
"Hello?"
A pause, not the usual pause of a telemarketer or a wrong number this was something else
"Am I speaking with Peter James Cole?"
Peter froze. "Yes… who is this?"
"My name is Richard Hale,"
"I'm calling from Hale & Crowne Legal Chambers."
Peter's brow furrowed. "Okay… and?"
"There has been an incident," Hale said.
"An accident involving your grandfather."
Peter blinked. "My grandfather? I… I don't have a grandfather, what are you talking about?"
Another pause.
"You do, or rather… you did. Arthur Blackwood."
Peter froze, the name ignited a memory, a brief flash from his childhood, he remembered a sealed envelope, a social worker snapping it away before he could read it, the word "Blackwood" whispered once before being shut out of his life entirely.
"I… I don't understand," Peter said quietly. "Who is he?"
"He was your maternal grandfather," Hale said. "Until six hours ago, he was one of the wealthiest men in the country.
Now…" His voice softened slightly, though it didn't feel like sympathy. "Now he's gone." "Gone? What do you mean?"
"Private jet crash, no survivors."
He slid down the wall until he was sitting on the cold tile floor, his phone slipping from his hand.
"This can't be real," Peter whispered. "I don't… I don't have anyone. My parents are dead, I grew up in foster care...this doesn't make any sense."
"There are arrangements," Hale said, his tone even but unwavering. "Arrangements your grandfather made long ago, you are named as the sole heir to his estate."
Peter laughed, a short, sharp sound that echoed oddly against the walls. "You're joking. This is some kind of scam, right?"
"I assure you, I am not joking," Hale said.
Peter's hands shook as he picked up his phone again. "How much are we talking?"
"Approximately twelve point six billion dollars," Hale said calmly. "Excluding assets currently under valuation."
The world seemed to snap in half. Twelve… billion? Numbers didn't mean anything here, words didn't either, his life, as he had known it struggling to pay rent, surviving on instant noodles, drowning in student debt was being rewritten in a single phone call.
"I… I think you've got the wrong person," Peter stammered. "I'm… I'm just a student. I can't..."
"No," Hale interrupted. "I am certain. The will is very clear but there are conditions."
Of course there are conditions, nothing in life this insane comes without strings.
"You'll need to attend the reading of the will," Hale continued. "Immediately, arrangements for your travel and accommodations will be made."
Peter felt his mind whirl. His roommate's texts flashed in his head: "Did u get kicked out?? Prof is PISSED". That felt insignificant now, utterly meaningless.
His whole existence had been upended, the ground beneath him replaced with something he couldn't even comprehend.
"And if I don't go?" Peter asked, his voice low.
"There are consequences," Hale said simply.
Peter swallowed hard. "Consequences like what?"
"That is… complicated," Hale said, another pause, as though weighing words. "Let's just say your grandfather's enemies are not the forgiving sort."
Peter's pulse jumped, enemies? He had no enemies. Hell, he barely had friends and now, suddenly, the stakes were lethal, incomprehensible, and all entirely his.
He rubbed his face with both hands, trying to steady himself. "This is insane."
"Yes," Hale agreed. "It usually feels that way at first."
Peter looked down at his phone again, his life as a struggling student had evaporated. In its place was an empire he knew nothing about, a name he barely remembered, and a world that would suddenly watch his every move.
"I… I guess I'll have to go," Peter said.
Hale paused for just a second, then said, "Good. I'll have a car waiting, one more thing your grandfather was careful, not everything he left behind is what it seems. Trust no one. Not your so-called allies, not your lawyers, not even the people closest to you. Your life… will never be the same."
He took a deep breath, trying to prepare for what he couldn't even imagine. Twelve billion dollars. A world of power, danger lurking behind every corner and now a new name, he was no longer Peter Cole, the broke student, not anymore.
He was Peter Cole, heir to a legacy soaked in mystery, wealth, and death and somewhere, far away, someone was already waiting, watching, planning.
Peter didn't notice it yet but that presence would change everything and just as he stood, gripping the phone like a lifeline, a shadow moved in the hallway behind him.
A figure stepped out of the darkness, their face hidden.
"Peter Cole," a voice said, low and sharp.
I have come a long way to finally meet you.