I Inherited Trillions, Now What?-Chapter 77: Alexander Day One II

Inside a Mercedes-Benz E-Class (W210) cruising down a New York freeway, three people sat. Sebastian, the assistant, was at the wheel, taking on the role of driver. In the backseat, his boss, Cassius, sat next to his son, Alexander, who was engrossed in his book.

Cassius who was still ranting about his wife’s recent behavior. "I don’t understand why she’s encouraging that attitude," he muttered, exasperated. He sighed and glanced over at Alexander, who continued reading without looking up. Cassius smiled, reaching over to ruffle his son’s hair. "You and your books, huh?" he said. "But you know, you really need friends."

This caught Alexander’s attention, and he slowly looked up from his book. Cassius, still smiling, added, "We’re heading to meet the new head of the Morgan family. He’s got a son around your age—David, I think. You two should get along just fine."

Sebastian, who had been listening in from the front, chimed in, "That’s a great idea, sir. Mr. Patrick Morgan is known for being very family oriented despite the circumstances. If Alexander can get closer to him, it might help us gain his support against the Rockefellers."

Cassius didn’t respond immediately, his gaze lingering on Alexander with a soft smile. He didn’t confirm or deny that the goal behind the suggestion was to strengthen their position, but the underlying intention was clear.

Cassius sighed deeply before speaking. "But it’s truly sad. The previous head… even though I butted heads with him a lot, it was still sad to hear about his passing, He taught me a lot of things."

Sebastian, driving in the front seat, responded, "Yes, sir, but it’s the nature of life. Even someone as powerful as Everett Morgan had to succumb to nature’s reality. Even he couldn’t cheat death."

Cassius, a man who had always lived in excess, let out a loud laugh. "That man—what a man! You know, when I made my first billion, I had the chance to meet him," he said with a smile. "He tried to scare me, but did he really think a line of English butlers and French maids would intimidate me?" He chuckled as he remembered the past.

Sebastian, smiling, added, "Yes, sir, I remember. I was there. Even the head butler said I would be a perfect butler."

Cassius laughed even harder. "You, a butler? That’s hilarious!" Sebastian joined in, both men laughing at the absurdity of the thought.

While they were still laughing, a tiny voice cut through the conversation. "Would you die too, Father?"

Cassius and Sebastian paused, surprised by the question. Cassius turned to look at his son, meeting his eyes, and smiled gently. "Die? Why would you ask that?"

Alexander looked up from his book and asked, "Well, you said everyone dies. So does that mean you would die too? Does that mean Mom, Stephanie, and even I would die? And if we do, where do we go? Do we just vanish into nothing? And if we do vanish into nothing, will we be conscious of it? Or will we just go poof and not exist anymore?"

Cassius was momentarily stunned by the question. He stared at his son—a boy who had always been different. From the moment he was born, there had been something unusual about him.

When Alexander first entered the world, the doctors had declared him dead—until, suddenly, he let out a small cry. Since then, Cassius could hardly recall a time when he had cried again.

By one, he was already walking and talking. By three, he had started reading, and now, at just five years old, he devoured books that even Cassius found tedious. While other parents might have been unsettled by such a child or parading him as a prodigy, Cassius simply felt pride.

All those generous donations to the church had clearly paid off—God was smiling down on him.

Cassius suddenly burst into laughter. Alexander simply stared at him as his father shook his head, grinning.

"Oh boy, are you scared for me?" Cassius said. "Don’t worry, I’m a bull! Even God can’t kill me—at least not yet. I’ll live to at least 200!" He glanced out the window, smirking. "There’s still too much money to be made."

Then, turning back to his son, he added, "And about your other question—we’re Catholics, so we believe in the afterlife. Heaven and all that. But since you’ll be following in my footsteps, just do what I do—make lots of donations to the church and buy your way into heaven."

Alexander frowned slightly. "Buy your way into heaven?"

Cassius laughed. "Of course! Just donate so much that even God can’t ignore you."

While Cassius was speaking to his son, Sebastian’s voice interrupted. "Sir, we’re here," he said, making both Cassius and Alexander turn their attention to the front.

They were now standing in front of a massive gate, where armed guards stood watch. One of the guards approached as Sebastian rolled the window down. The guard looked at them and asked, "Name, please?"

"Blackwell," Sebastian replied smoothly.

The guard paused, glanced around for a moment, and then nodded to the other guard. After a brief wait, the large black gates slowly creaked open, revealing the Morgan family crest—a symbol that reflected J.P. Morgan’s historical ties with the Welsh, a nod to their heritage.

As they passed through the gates, Cassius muttered, "All these people and their bravado. And look at that crest! Sebastian, remind me to work on a Blackwell family crest."

The car continued down a long road that wound up a hill. At the top stood a magnificent mansion, gleaming against the backdrop of the sky.

After reaching the front of the mansion, they parked the car, and all three of them stepped out. Cassius, ever the attentive father, helped Alexander straighten his suit, fussing over him. Just as they were about to make their way inside, a voice sounded from behind them in a refined British accent.

"Good day, Mr. Blackwell."

Alexander looked up to see an elderly man with gray hair, dressed in a butler’s uniform.

Cassius smiled warmly. "Ah, Alfred! I see you’re still with us. I thought you might have followed your old master by now. You know, it’s hot in hell—he might need a fan or something." He laughed, clearly enjoying himself.

This chapt𝓮r is updat𝒆d by ƒreeωebnovel.ƈom.

The butler remained stoic, his expression unchanged. "So funny, Mr. Blackwell. It’s good to see your sense of humor hasn’t changed. Now, if you would follow me, the new head would like to see you."

Cassius smiled and followed Alfred, with Alexander and Sebastian trailing behind.

As they walked into the mansion, they were greeted by the grandeur of the interior—a beautiful, old-world mansion filled with sculptures and ornate paintings that lined the walls. The architecture was timeless, with high ceilings, intricate moldings, and grand chandeliers casting a soft glow over everything. Marble floors stretched beneath their feet, reflecting the light, while large windows allowed the sunlight to flood the space, illuminating the opulent furnishings and décor.

Alexander, ever the curious child, couldn’t help but look around in awe. He noticed maids and staff moving through the rooms, each one performing their duties with quiet efficiency.

They made their way through the mansion, winding down corridors and climbing stairs, until they arrived in front of a large, impressive door. Alfred turned around, glancing at Cassius.

"He’s right this way, Mr. Blackwell."

Cassius nodded and began to enter, with Alexander wanting to follow his father. Alfred, however, stopped him gently.

"For you, young master, let me lead you to the garden. Young master David and his elder brother, young master Thomas, are there."

Alexander looked at the old butler’s face, then glanced at his father, who gave him a reassuring smile before heading inside. Alexander nodded in response and turned to Alfred. "Okay, let’s go to the garden," he said, following the butler with Sebastian trailing behind.

As they arrived at the garden, Alexander was struck by its beauty. The garden was immaculately trimmed, with vibrant flowers in full bloom and perfectly manicured hedges lining the paths. Alfred turned to him and said, "Young master Alex, you can go right in. They should both be inside."

Alexander nodded, stepping into the garden, his eyes wide with curiosity as he took in the serene atmosphere.

Sebastian, watching from behind, heard Alfred’s words and turned to see the butler address him. "And you, Sebastian—are you not yet ready for butler training?"

Sebastian couldn’t help but give a crooked smile, thinking, Here he goes again.

Meanwhile, Alexander wandered through the garden, taking in the vibrant flowers and enjoying the calmness of the space. As he meandered, he suddenly heard the sound of a boy’s voice shouting, "Thomas, stop! Give it here!"

Intrigued, Alexander followed the sound, approaching a scene where a slightly older boy—probably around nine—was tugging something from another boy’s hands. The other boy, who appeared to be Alexander’s age, was struggling to hold on.

The older boy pushed the younger one aside, snatching the object from his hands. "I just want to look at it before playing with it and breaking it," he said with a smirk, adding, "Oops."

The younger boy screamed, rushing toward him, only to be shoved back by the older boy, who taunted, "Oh, you want to fight me over a toy car?" He laughed, then noticed Alexander standing nearby, watching them with interest.

The older boy’s expression shifted. He called out, "Who are you?"

Then he paused, his eyes narrowing as he remembered, "Oh, that’s right. Father said Cassius Blackwell and his son are coming for a visit." He smirked, looking down at his younger half-brother before sneering at Alexander. "Well, this is perfect—a newbie upstart son and the son of a gold digger you both fit each other." He laughed, his gaze flicking between the two boys before he turned and walked away, still chuckling.

Alexander’s fists clenched at the insults, but he slowly relaxed his hands as the older boy left. He walked over to the younger boy, who was kneeling on the ground, trying to gather the broken pieces of his toy car.

"Hey, are you okay?" Alexander asked, placing a hand gently on the boy’s shoulder.

The boy jerked away, brushing off Alexander’s hand forcefully. "Don’t touch me," he snapped.

The tears in his eyes welled up as he glared at Alexander. "And don’t look at me either!" he shouted, his voice filled with anger. "What right do you have to look down on me with pity? Know your place—I’m a Morgan, and you’re just new money. Your dad will probably lose all his wealth in a few years." He grumbled under his breath, "I’m still a Morgan. I don’t need help from you."

The repeated insults toward his family name were like a red flag to Alexander. His fist clenched again, and with a calm but resolute gesture, he tapped the boy on the shoulder. When the boy turned to look at him his eyes widened as he saw something rushing towards his face.

A.N

A big thank you to TW_MIRAGE for sending me not one, but three gifts again 😂! I’ll be releasing two chapters today, so everyone, make sure to thank them! Also, huge shoutout to Voids010 for sending me a golden ticket! Y’all are the best 🕺

Please, if you want to support the book, donate Power Stones, Golden Tickets, and even gifts 🥺🙏

To show you all how this means to me this is a little something Underneath.

In a stark, black-and-white office, the monotony of the room seemed to match David’s current state of mind. His fingers moved sluggishly over the keyboard, typing away as the weight of sadness and exhaustion hung heavily on his shoulders. Every keystroke felt like it took more effort than the last. His thoughts were tangled in a web of worries—business deals, responsibilities, and the suffocating pressure of maintaining his image. He was drained, both mentally and emotionally, caught in a whirlwind of melancholy.

Suddenly, his phone buzzed, breaking through the haze of his thoughts. He glanced down, seeing a message notification from TW_MIRAGE. His heart skipped a beat, the grayness of the world around him suddenly feeling just a little lighter. He unlocked the screen and saw three gifts had been sent. As he opened the message, the dull colors of his office began to fade, replaced by a warmth that spread through him like a gentle wave. A smile tugged at his lips, something he hadn’t felt for a while.

For a moment, everything around him seemed to gain color again—the stark white walls, the harsh lighting, the cold, empty desk—all of it now felt just a bit more bearable. The message was more than just a simple gesture; it was a reminder that even in the midst of his struggles, there were people who cared, who saw him, who appreciated him. It wasn’t about the gifts themselves—it was the thought behind them, the connection, the acknowledgment that he wasn’t alone in this.

His gratitude welled up, making the weight of the world seem a little less heavy. The smile that had formed on his face lingered, and for a brief moment, he allowed himself to feel something other than the fatigue and sadness that had plagued him all day. It was a small moment of respite, a reminder that despite the chaos and the battles he faced, there were still things in his life that made it all worth it. He sat back in his chair, closing his eyes for just a second, taking it all in, and silently appreciating the very meaningful gesture.