I Inherited Trillions, Now What?

"Why would you guys do this? Grounding the whole airport just to satisfy your selfish desires?"

A sharp voice cut through the wind, filled with frustration and disbelief. The airport runway stretched wide and empty under the dim evening sky, with only three figures standing in the vast open space. A light breeze carried the distant hum of idling aircraft, but the area around them was eerily still.

The first of the three was a man dressed in a full-body black suit. Every movement he made was calculated, his posture rigid and alert. He was unmistakably a bodyguard, and even if his demeanor didn't give it away, the firearm secured at his hip certainly did. His stance was unwavering, his sharp eyes scanning the surroundings, always a step ahead in ensuring the safety of his charge.

Standing at the front was a woman, her presence commanding yet effortlessly elegant. She wore a sleek, form-fitting black bodysuit, tailored to perfection, exuding both power and grace. The high collar accentuated her poised neck, while the subtle sheen of the fabric reflected the airport lights, adding to her air of authority.

Her long, black hair whipped lightly in the wind, though she paid it no mind. The way she carried herself—with an unshaken, confident stride—made it clear she was someone used to being in control. Everything about her, from the way she held her chin high to the faint, knowing smirk that barely touched her lips, suggested an impenetrable professionalism. She was not a woman easily swayed.

And then, there was the third figure—the one who had spoken.

She was different from the first woman in every way. If the woman in the black bodysuit radiated an air of cold professionalism, this one had an effortless warmth about her. She felt like the first breeze of morning, the kind that gently brushes against your skin and lingers, making you feel alive. But make no mistake—despite the softness in her appearance, there was nothing delicate about her spirit.

She was beautiful, but not in an unattainable, distant way. She had the kind of beauty that felt familiar, the kind that made heads turn but also made people feel comfortable in her presence. Like the girl next door, if the girl next door had the elegance of a world-class model.

Her golden-blonde hair should have been tousled by the wind, yet it remained almost impossibly in place, as if untouched by the chaos around her. Her features were striking, yet softened by emotion—frustration, indignation, and just a hint of exasperated amusement. She wasn't naive; she knew exactly who she was dealing with.

"Where is Alexander? I need to tell him exactly what's on my mind. What he did isn't right at all," she said, her voice carrying a mixture of anger and inevitability. Then, she let out a small, humorless scoff before adding, "Why am I even surprised? I knew he was going to do something."

She shook her head, arms crossed in defiance. Rejecting Alexander Blackwell wasn't something people did without consequence. She had turned down his offer, and deep down, she had expected some form of retaliation. But this? This was beyond what she thought he'd do. The sheer audacity of grounding all flights just to get his way was outrageous. Then again, it was also exactly the kind of move that suited a man like him. Alexander Blackwell never took no for an answer.

A voice broke through her thoughts—calm, measured, and utterly unaffected by the growing tension in the air.

"Mr. Blackwell is in a meeting right now. He will join us shortly. In the meantime, we have been asked to wait on the plane," said the black-haired woman, her tone neutral, almost detached. There was no trace of apology in her voice—only a statement of fact.

Susan exhaled sharply, running a hand through her hair in frustration. "So he isn't even here," she muttered under her breath.

Susan Beaumont—one of the world's top surgeons, a woman who had saved countless lives with her gifted hands—was now standing on an empty runway, forced into yet another one of Alexander's games. She had come here in a rush, her father booking her a first-class ticket so she could return home as soon as possible. But of course, her father—ever the overprotective man—changed his mind at the last second, insisting she take a private jet instead, wanting her as far away from Alexander as possible.

And yet, here she was, about to board his plane.

If her father found out, he would be furious. No—furious wasn't even the word. He would be livid. The kind of anger that could shake entire cities.

But at this point, what choice did she have? Be stubborn and let all those people miss their flights—the families trying to reunite, the patients needing urgent medical care, the business deals hanging by a thread? Susan couldn't allow that.

She sighed, trying to push the situation to the back of her mind for now. As she walked forward, her eyes landed on the massive aircraft ahead of her. She had seen it from a distance, but now that she was close, she felt her breath catch in her throat. The size was beyond anything she had expected. What she had thought was an overstatement was, in fact, an understatement. The plane was enormous—easily the size of a full commercial passenger jet, yet it belonged to a single man.

Susan had been surrounded by luxury all her life. Private yachts, extravagant parties, and even entire islands owned by families in her circle were nothing new to her. And being around Alexander since her teenage days had exposed her to even more grandeur. But this? This was something else.

The aircraft doors slid open smoothly, revealing a staircase leading inside. As she climbed up, the soft glow of ambient lighting met her, casting a warm, golden hue on the polished interior. The moment she stepped in, she felt another wave of awe.

The plane was breathtaking.

The flooring was lined with plush, cream-colored carpeting, so soft that her heels barely made a sound. The walls were adorned with sleek wood paneling, seamlessly blending with modern, high-tech accents. A long, elegant bar stood on one side, stocked with the finest wines and spirits. Opposite it, an entertainment lounge featured a curved OLED screen and a sound system so perfectly tuned that it could turn the cabin into a personal concert hall.

Further in, massive, luxurious leather sofas in a muted champagne color were arranged in a way that felt both opulent and inviting. A crystal chandelier hung from the ceiling—not too large, but just enough to add a subtle touch of extravagance. Even the air smelled expensive, a blend of fresh leather, light vanilla, and something distinctively refined—like wealth itself.

Despite herself, Susan had the urge to explore every inch of the plane, but she held back, remembering why she was here. Instead, she moved toward one of the oversized couches and sank into it. The material was impossibly soft, molding to her body in a way that almost made her forget she was still irritated. She set her purse on the glossy mahogany table in front of her and exhaled slowly.

As she settled in, she noticed Evelyn speaking quietly with the bodyguard. It was clear she was handling some logistics. Susan watched as she wrapped up the conversation and turned to head toward another section of the plane. Just as she was about to disappear inside, Susan called out. Stay updated with My Virtual Library Empire

"Wait."

Evelyn paused, turning toward her. "Yes, Miss Beaumont? Is everything okay? Would you care for something?" Her voice was polite and professional, as always.

Susan shook her head. "No, no, I'm fine. I just wanted to talk to you."

Evelyn's expression remained neutral, waiting.

Susan hesitated for a moment, then said, "I wanted to ask you something."

Evelyn gave a small nod. "Of course, Miss. You can ask anything."

Susan offered a faint smile, and for the first time, Evelyn noticed something—something familiar. It struck her how much Susan resembled Caroline. It wasn't just their shared features. It was the way they smiled, the way they carried themselves. The resemblance was uncanny. But then again, Caroline had spent years mimicking her father's mannerisms. Before that, she had been her mother's mirror.

Susan cleared her throat, shifting slightly on the couch. "It's about Alex," she said, her voice quieter now. "Since his father..." She trailed off, a noticeable pause settling between them before she finally continued. "Since his father passed, how has he been? Is he okay?"

There was no mistaking the concern in her voice. The way her brows drew together slightly, the softness in her expression—it was genuine. And yet, wasn't this the same man she had been cursing just moments ago?

Evelyn didn't react outwardly. "Mr. Blackwell is fine," she said evenly. "He is as he has always been—focused on business."

Susan didn't look convinced, and Evelyn seemed to realize that wasn't the answer she wanted. So after a brief pause, she softened her tone just a little. "He's fine, Susan. You know how he is."

Susan exhaled deeply, running a hand through her blonde hair. "It's just... his father meant so much to him. Losing him must have affected him, even if he refuses to admit it. His father was his pillar. It's just..." She trailed off again, shaking her head slightly before murmuring, "Never mind. It's fine."

Evelyn gave a small nod, her expression unreadable. "Okay then, Miss Beaumont. I'll be inside working. If you need anything, you can page me." She gestured to a sleek panel beside Susan's seat, showing her the built-in communication system.

Susan didn't respond immediately, simply nodding. As Evelyn turned and walked away, Susan leaned back into the couch, tilting her head up toward the ceiling. The soft hum of the plane filled the silence, but it did nothing to quiet the thoughts swirling in her mind.

She exhaled slowly, her voice barely above a whisper.

"He's always fine," she muttered, but there was no certainty in her words.

Because she knew better.

The Author sat at their desk, staring at the blinking cursor. A deep sigh escaped their lips.

"I have failed them," they muttered dramatically, burying their face in their hands.

Yes, dear readers, I am here to grovel. I promised a chapter yesterday, and yet—nothing. Silence. Emptiness. The void where words should have been. I can only say… I'm so sorry! 😭 From now on, I'll be going back to manual uploads because clearly, I can't trust the forces of the universe to be on my side.

But hey, on to brighter things—Happy New Month! 🎉 Can you believe it? This is already the third month of this book's journey, and somehow, you're still here, reading my chaotic ramblings. You all deserve medals. 🏅

Speaking of surprises, I woke up this morning expecting nothing, and instead, I found 10 golden tickets waiting for me. TEN. I nearly fell off my chair. Let's give a round of applause to the legends who made this happen:🎖 DaichiXuan – A brand-new reader and already supporting me? Welcome aboard! I promise this ship is mostly stable… mostly.🎖 Peanut_Butter_2757 – My most engaging reader, dropping two tickets like an absolute boss! I'm still recovering from your last gift, by the way. You have too much power.🎖 Velsharoon, the King of Gold 👑 – SEVEN golden tickets?! SEVEN?! Sir, at this point, I might have to build a golden throne in your honor. (P.S. I haven't forgotten my promise about your character—I'm just waiting for the perfect dramatic moment to introduce them. Trust me, they will shine.)

Now, as we enter this glorious new month, I have some ambitious goals, and I need your help:🚀 Alexander's character vote – Let's hit 500,000! (Currently at 220,000, but who's counting? We aim HIGH!)🚀 50 golden tickets – Can we make it happen? I believe in us.🚀 Reviews, reviews, reviews! If you're enjoying the story, please drop a review so we can get a proper rating! Your words mean the world to me!

And with that, dear readers, I shall retreat to my writing cave, fueled by caffeine and your incredible support. Thank you all so much! Now, let's make this month epic! 💖

Wishing all my Muslim readers a blessed and peaceful Ramadan! May this holy month bring you joy, good health, and countless blessings. Ramadan Mubarak