Discarded Genius Reclaims His Throne Chapter 1

The day I personally secured my parents a spot on the billionaire list was the day I found out I wasn't their biological son.

“Rhodes, you’re moving out tomorrow. Before you go, make sure you finalize the repayment for all the upkeep expenses.” That was Victor.

“Undergraduates can barely find jobs now, but out of the kindness of our hearts, we’ll let you stay on as a janitor at the office.” That was Lydia.

I simply smiled, declining their pitiful offer, and prepared to go home, pack my things, and clear out.

I thought their calculated coldness had reached its limit.

But when I saw the two large suitcases and a cardboard box—already packed and sitting on the curb—at the front of the house, I couldn’t help but be stunned by their efficiency.

After fishing my laptop out of the box, I instinctively typed in the top-tier administrative password I’d used for five years.

Idiots.

Without me, how do you plan to hold onto any of this?

* * *

I walked calmly through the throng of people, exiting the gilded, echoing doors of the stock exchange.

I hailed a random cab and gave the driver the address of the sprawling house I’d lived in for over two decades.

The driver glanced at me in the rearview mirror, probably recognizing me; the bell-ringing ceremony had been live-streamed across every business channel. He said nothing, simply muting the financial news playing on the radio.

I leaned against the window, watching the blur of neon lights slide past.

My phone was vibrating constantly. I didn’t need to look to know it was the media, scrambling for a first-hand scoop. I just turned it off.

The car stopped at the gate of the estate.

From a distance, I could already see them: two large suitcases and a cardboard box, standing alone on the cold pavement outside the wrought-iron gate.

I let out a soft, cold laugh.

They certainly were efficient, desperate to ensure I didn’t waste one extra second inside.

I dragged the luggage to the front door and, out of habit, placed my finger on the scanner of the biometric lock.

“Access Denied. Please contact the administrator.”

The electronic voice was ice-cold.

The mockery in my eyes deepened. This entire security system, hardware and software, had been personally designed and deployed by me. The so-called administrator’s top-tier access had, until a few hours ago, been mine.

I’d been locked out by my own creation.

Perhaps it was better this way. It saved me the energy of going inside to perform the charade of fatherly affection, maternal concern, or brotherly love.

I sat down on the stoop and opened my laptop.

I swiftly logged into the internal server backend. I was curious to see just how thoroughly they had stolen my things.

I typed in the top-tier account and password I’d used for five years.

But instead of the familiar admin interface, a blazing red window popped up: User Not Found.

They had truly cut all ties.

I was contemplating my next move when the phone I’d just turned off suddenly lit up in my pocket.

It was the one number I thought I would never see again.