THE HEIR
The day of the gala had arrived, and Antonio got ready quickly.
The suit he wore hung loosely on his frame. It was one of Brandon's old suits, a bit worn at the edges but still serviceable.
Antonio stood in front of the mirror, adjusting the lapels, his eyes catching the faint lines of wear on the fabric. He sighed. It would have to do. He had no other options.
After fixing his tie, Antonio ran a hand through his hair and took a deep breath.
Tonight wasn't for him; it never was. This was for Lisa, James, and their world. He was just an accessory, something to be tolerated when necessary and discarded when inconvenient.
With one last glance at himself, Antonio turned and headed downstairs.
James Carter and his wife, Helena, were already in the foyer, dressed in their finest.
Lisa stood next to them, her gown shimmering under the light, her face a picture of controlled excitement.
Antonio couldn't help but admire how beautiful she looked.
"Are you ready?" Lisa asked without looking at him.
Antonio nodded. "Yes, I'm ready."
"Good," James said.
He glanced at Antonio's ill-fitted suit and gave him a sneer.
"Remember what I told you, Antonio. Stay out of our way. I don't want anyone knowing we're associated with you. Understand?"
"Yes, I understand." Antonio nodded.
Without another word, they all headed to the car, and Antonio took his usual place behind the wheel.
When they arrived, the car was swept away by attendants, and the Carter family stepped out, instantly blending into the glamorous crowd.
Antonio lingered behind, following at a distance.
As they entered the lavishly decorated ballroom, James spotted an old friend across the room. He and Helena immediately made their way over, leaving Antonio and Lisa behind.
Lisa, however, wasted no time. She spotted her friends seated at a table and excused herself, barely giving Antonio a second glance.
Antonio watched her go. He stood awkwardly on the sidelines, watching the elegant crowd mingle.
After a while, the boredom and loneliness began to weigh on him, and he decided to take a stroll outside.
The cool night air hit his face as he stepped out of the gala.
Antonio wandered through the manicured gardens, Just as he was about to turn back toward the ballroom, a voice called out from the shadows.
"Antonio."
Antonio froze, his brow furrowing in confusion. The voice was unfamiliar.
"Antonio," the voice repeated, a little louder this time.
Antonio turned toward the voice, his eyes scanning the darkness. A man stepped forward, his face partially illuminated by a nearby lantern.
He was older, with sharp eyes and an intense gaze that seemed to pierce right through Antonio.
"I've finally found you," the man said, a strange excitement in his voice.
"I'm sorry, do I know you?" Antonio asked confused.
The man's eyes gleamed, and he took a step closer. "You don't know me, but I know you, Antonio. The long-lost heir has been found at last."
Antonio blinked, stepping back slightly. "I think you've got the wrong person."
The man shook his head, a slow smile spreading across his face. "Oh no, I know exactly who you are. You are the heir to the Matteo empire."
Antonio's heart skipped a beat. "The Matteo empire? You're mistaken. I'm not—"
The man cut him off, his voice urgent now. "Roll up your sleeve."
"What?"
"Roll up your sleeve," the man repeated. "Show me your birthmark."
Antonio felt a chill run down his spine. How could this man possibly know about the birthmark on his arm? Only a few people knew about it, and it had always been something he never thought much of.
"Who are you?" Antonio asked.
The man didn't answer right away. He simply stared at Antonio, his gaze unwavering.
"I can't explain everything here," he said finally. "It's too public. But I need you to trust me."
"Trust you?" Antonio asked. "I don't even know who you are."
"My name is Edgar," the man said, stepping even closer. "I've been looking for you for years, Antonio. You are the last surviving heir of the Matteo family."
Antonio shook his head. "I'm no one. You've got the wrong person."
Edgar eyes flashed with impatience. "Roll up your sleeve. If I'm wrong, I'll leave you in peace. But I'm not wrong."
Reluctantly, Antonio pulled up his sleeve, revealing the small, crescent-shaped birthmark on the inside of his forearm.
"There it is," Edgar said triumphantly. "The mark of the Matteo line."
Antonio stared at the man, his mind racing. "How do you know about this? What is all of this?"
Edgar handed Antonio a business card. "I can't explain everything here. If you want answers, meet me tomorrow at the address on this card. It's not safe to talk here."
Antonio glanced down at the card. Before he could say anything more, Edgar turned and disappeared into the shadows, leaving Antonio standing alone in the garden.
He stood there for a long moment, staring at the card in his hand, his mind a whirlwind of confusion. Could it be true? Could he really be the heir to some empire he'd never even heard of?
Tucking the card into his pocket, Antonio turned and walked back inside. He would have to find out the truth.