The air inside the black Maybach was thick with tension. Ochieng sat in the backseat, staring at the golden envelope in his hands. His mind was a battlefield of thoughts, each one colliding with the other. The weight of his newly discovered identity was a curse he never wished for.
Lucien Zhao had thrown the truth at him like a dagger—sharp, precise, and meant to wound. He was the heir. The hidden prince of a dynasty so powerful that nations bowed before it.
"Boss, the gala starts in an hour," Bella reminded him, her voice unusually soft.
The car wove through the neon-lit streets, slicing through the heart of the city where the powerful gathered to play their games. Tonight wasn't just another event—it was a declaration of power.
Ochieng clenched his fists. If the world expected a show, he would give them one.
---
The grand hall of the Royal Jade Hotel was a masterpiece of opulence. Crystal chandeliers dripped from the ceiling like frozen waterfalls, and the floor was polished so smooth it reflected the guests like a mirror. The elite of the underworld, billionaires, mafia heads, and political puppeteers filled the space.
As Ochieng stepped inside, the murmurs began.
"The lost heir..."
"He actually came."
"Does he even know what kind of storm he's stepping into?"
Dressed in a black silk suit, embroidered with golden dragons, he was a vision of calculated dominance. His watch, a limited-edition Patek Philippe, gleamed under the soft lights, its worth enough to buy a small island.
His arrival sent a ripple through the crowd. Women whispered behind their crystal glasses, some eyes filled with admiration, others with hunger. Men measured him, wondering if they should fear or challenge him.
Ochieng ignored them all.
At the center of the ballroom, a throne-like seat sat empty—a place meant for the true ruler of the Zhao empire.
Lucien was already there, lounging like a man who knew he held all the cards. "I was wondering if you'd run," he mused.
Ochieng smirked. "Run? From my own kingdom?"
A slow chuckle rippled through the room.
But then—BANG!
A gunshot shattered the air.
Screams erupted as the room plunged into chaos. Bodyguards scrambled, shields raised.
Ochieng didn't flinch.
He turned his head slightly—eyes locking onto the source.
A man stood at the entrance, holding a silver gun, his expression twisted in rage. "You don't deserve that throne!"
Ochieng smiled. A cold, sharp smile.
"Then come take it from me."