Take A Number True Heir

The day Jax Coleman, the prodigal son, returned, he had all my things tossed out of my room.

Im their real son, you fraud, he sneered, hands jammed into the pockets of his designer jeans. You can pack up and leave.

Oh, and before you go, he added, his eyes narrowing as he looked me up and down. You owe us. I'll charge you twenty years of Sterling hospitality at a million a year. Twenty million. Wire it directly to my account.

I didnt argue. Instead, I calmly slid a card across the granite counter.

"Certainly, Mr. Coleman. But first, youll need to schedule an appointment. This is the link to our digital verification portal. You're currently number five-hundred in the queue."

Jaxs hand shot out and slapped the card away.

"Tristan Stone, who the hell do you think you are, blocking my path to my parents?"

I kept my voice even. "Im not blocking you. I'm maintaining the process. There's a waiting list."

Jax, however, was desperate to claim his birthright. He wasn't listening.

"You really think a nobody like you gets to make the true Sterling heir wait? As soon as I find my parents, youll be the one swept out of this house."

What Jax didn't know was that he was just the latest in a long, humiliating line. Four hundred and ninety-nine hopefuls had come before him, each with an equally compelling, yet ultimately bogus, claim. My parents had long since handed the entire "True Heir Vetting Process" over to me.

...

Jax cornered my mother, Charlotte Sterling, right as she was stepping out of a Board of Directors meeting at Sterling Tower.

"Mom!" he cried, dropping dramatically to his knees in the marble foyer. "Im your son! Your real son!"

Mom didn't even blink.

Her executive assistant, a woman named Ms. Chad, immediately stepped in. "Sir, all claims for familial recognition must go through the online appointment portal."

Jax instantly welled up. The tears were remarkably fast. "Mom! Just look at me! You have no idea how much Ive suffered all these years..."

Mom finally lifted her head. She glanced at her watch, an understated Patek Philippe.

"Thirty-six seconds," she murmured, then looked at Ms. Chad. "Five seconds slower than last month's contender. No new record, kid."

Jax froze, bewildered. "Excuse me?"

Mom pulled out her sleek tablet and scrolled. "Vetting File JXC37. Jax Coleman, twenty-two. Lives in a walk-up in the Outer Boroughs. Parents deceased. Put himself through community college on grants. We know."

Jax's face crumpled. "You you investigated me?"

Mom gave him a dismissive pat on the shoulder. "Your acting is solid, but the dialogue is stale. I suggest you watch The Royal Switch Season Two, Episode Eight. Much better performance."

Then she was gone.

At three that afternoon, my father, Arthur Sterling, was inspecting one of the flagship Sterling Malls.

Jax showed up again.

This time, he changed tactics.

"Dad!" He waved a faded photograph. "Look! I look just like you did when you were a kid!"

My father took the photo and examined it.

"Nice retouching," he said dryly. "But next time, remember to slim the ears down. We Sterlings dont have ears that large."

Jax panicked. "This is a real photo of me!"

"Son," Dad sighed, handing it back. "Last year, a guy showed up with a deepfake video claiming to be me. The technology was much more professional than your Photoshop skills. Go see Tristan. He handles this circus."

Jax stomped his foot in frustration. "Dad! How can you be so cruel?"

Dad walked off without turning back. "Call me Mr. Sterling."

That evening, Grandma Elizas private jet landed at JFK.

Jax had staked out the VIP exit all afternoon.

"Grandma!" He dropped to his knees again, forehead touching the ground. "Im your true grandson!"

Grandma, fresh off a fourteen-hour flight, was still battling jet lag.

She squinted at him. "Which number is this one?"

The head of security, Mark, replied, "The fifty-seventh this year, ma'am."

Grandma nodded. "Did he make an appointment?"

Jax stammered, "N-no, I didn't..."

"Unacceptable." Grandma waved a hand. "Last year, a young man waited outside the terminal for three days before we squeezed him in. That's the only exception we've made."

She had Mark help Jax to his feet, and then handed him a business card. "Here's my grandson's contact info. Schedule an appointment."

Jax looked down at the card.

It read: Tristan Stone, Director of True Heir Vetting Projects, The Sterling Group.

His face went green.

The next day, Jax stormed into the Sterling compound.

"I demand a DNA test!" He pounded his fist on the mahogany table. "Now! Right now! Immediately!"

My parents exchanged a weary look.

"Son," Mom began, "its not that we don't want to..."

"You're scared, aren't you?" Jax sneered. "Youre afraid the test will prove I'm the real one!"

Dad rubbed his temples. "We had our blood drawn thirty times last year. Weve already done fifteen so far this year. My doctor says I'm borderline anemic."

Jax was momentarily speechless.

I walked over, carrying a tray with three steaming mugs of tea. "There is another way, actually."

"What?" he asked, eyeing me suspiciously.

"Hair or nail clippings," I said, setting the tea down. "The technology is quite advanced now. Doesnt necessarily require a blood draw."

Jaxs eyes lit up. "Then let's do it right now!"

I smiled. "We can. But youll still have to queue."

"Queue for what?"

"My parents have a monthly quota for biometric samples. It's full. We have over two hundred samples currently waiting in the lab. The earliest yours can be processed is next month."

Jax exploded. "Tristan Stone! You're doing this on purpose!"

I shrugged. "Just following procedure."

Jax couldn't wait. He spent twenty thousand dollars on a "fast-pass" from an appointment scalper.

He was directed to the third floor, the "Keepsake Authentication Suite."

He walked in, puffing out his chest like a pigeon.

"I have proof!" He pulled out half of a tarnished, heart-shaped locket. "The nurse gave me this when they swapped us! Its one-of-a-kind!"

The attendant, Mr. Lewis, took the locket and scanned the barcode on Jax's appointment slip.

"JXC37, Jax Coleman, Locket-Class Keepsake," Mr. Lewis read out. "We currently have 287 registered Locket-Class items in the system."

Jax's triumphant smile froze. "How many?"

"Two hundred and eighty-seven," Mr. Lewis confirmed, pulling up the data. "One hundred and forty-three half-pieces. One hundred and forty-four intact."

Jax sputtered. "That's impossible!"

Mr. Lewis gave a practiced, weary smile. "It started with the classic 'two halves that fit together' scenario. But it evolved. Were now receiving quarter-pieces. We even offer a 'Sterling Keepsake Fragment Puzzle' serviceninety-eight dollars, free shipping."

Jax looked physically ill.

I sent a voice note to the authentication suite, which played through the internal speaker: Mr. Coleman, your locket is the Standard Edition. Current market value is about four hundred dollars.

Jax whipped his head up, looking for the security camera. "Tristan! You set me up!"

I replied with a laugh: Its called market research.

Jax refused to give up.

"I have a birthmark!" He tore open his collar. "A butterfly shape on my left shoulder! Unique!"

Mr. Lewis sighed and pulled up another database.

"Out of the five hundred heirs who have registered this year, one hundred and eight claim to have a butterfly-shaped birthmark."

Jax gaped. "One hundred and eight?"

"One hundred and eight," Mr. Lewis repeated, zooming in on the data. "Seventy-six on the left shoulder, thirty-two on the right."

Jax was frantic. "But mine is special! It has a unique pattern!"

Mr. Lewis nodded patiently. "Yes. Claimants 43, 87, and 201 also said that." He clicked through photos. "No. 43s butterfly has spots. No. 87s has stripes. No. 201's is 3D-textured."

Jaxs lips trembled. "This... this cant be happening..."

I added the final blow via the speaker: Mr. Coleman, you could always get a tattoo. Tattoos are now accepted as valid keepsakes.

Jax was so enraged he slammed his mug onto the floor, shattering it.

"That'll be two thousand eight hundred dollars," Mr. Lewis said instantly, already writing an invoice. "Hand-painted Baccarat crystal."

Jax still wouldn't admit defeat.

"I look just like Mrs. Sterling when she was young!" He pointed at a framed photo on the wall. "Look at the resemblance!"

Mr. Lewis let out a long-suffering sigh and turned on the projector.

"Please observe this claimant."

The screen displayed a young man who looked not only like Mom but also like Dadand even a little bit like Grandma.

"We call him the 'Family Portrait Composite,'" Mr. Lewis explained. "He won the 'Most Sterling-Like Appearance' award last year."

Jax was quiet for three days.

But I knew he was just plotting.

Sure enough, he showed up at the Sterling Quarterly Gala.

Midway through the evening, Jax let out a piercing scream.

"My necklace is gone!" He covered his face, sobbing dramatically. "It was a gift from my adoptive mother!"

The entire ballroom fell silent. All eyes were on him.

Jax sniffled. "It was just here a moment ago..."

His gaze swept the room, finally landing on me.

"Mr. Stone," he said, timidly. "Didn't you just go to the restroom?"

I raised an eyebrow. "I did."

"Then..." He hesitated, putting on a show of reluctance. "Could I please check your bag?"

A murmur rippled through the guests.

Mom frowned. "Young man, what exactly are you implying?"

Jax's tears came on cue. "Mom, I don't mean anything by it! I just need to check..."

I smiled.

"Be my guest." I handed him my leather messenger bag. "Take a look."

Jax took the bag and pretended to fumble through it.

Then, "accidentally," he flipped it upside down.

Clatter

Keys, my phone, and a slim billfold tumbled out.

And a glittering diamond necklace.

"There it is!" Jax gasped, snatching it up. He looked at me, eyes brimming with false accusation. "Mr. Stone, why would you..."

I cut him off. "Mr. Coleman, do you know why the Sterling Grand Ballroom has 128 multi-angle security cameras installed?"

Jax blinked. "What?"

I pulled out my phone and cast the security feed to the nearest display screen.

The footage clearly showed Jax furtively creeping behind me and slipping the necklace into my open bag.

"Over the last three years," I scrolled through a private database, "forty-seven previous 'heirs' have used this exact maneuver."

Mr. Lewis, who happened to be tending the bar, called out, "That's the 48th time. Could we get some new material, please?"

I picked up the necklace. "Also," I added, looking at the clasp. "I bought this last week. I still have the receipt." I turned my attention back to Jax. "Do you have yours?"

Jaxs face flushed a deep crimson. "The Sterling family treats its true son like this?"

Grandma Eliza chuckled, a cold sound. "The last person who pulled that stunt is currently serving time for attempted grand larceny."

Jax bolted from the room.

The next day, a major gossip site exploded with a headline:

Sterling Heir Caught in Midnight Rendezvous with Corporate Rival

The accompanying photo, taken from a high, distorted angle, showed me helping a woman into a car, making it look suspiciously like we were kissing.

I checked the author of the post: A well-known gossip blogger.

I clicked on the comment section.

"Here we go again. Which number heir is responsible for this one?"

"The last guy who tried to smear Tristan had to pay a five-million-dollar settlement. Deleting this post is my advice."

"Bro, the Sterling legal team moves faster than FedEx."

I took to my own professional social media account. "I want to thank Mr. Coleman for helping me generate buzz for my new High-Density Battery project. Also, congratulations on setting the record for the 'Fastest Lawsuit Filed.'"

The attached photo was a screenshot of the official indictment.

Jax panicked and immediately deleted his posts and his burner accounts.

On the third day, Jax somehow managed to get a visitors pass and infiltrated Sterling Tower.

He walked into my office, carrying a porcelain mug of coffee.

"Mr. Stone," he said, head bowed low. "I apologize for yesterdays incident..."

I didnt take the mug. "Just leave it on the desk."

He put it down but remained standing.

"Something else?" I asked.

He bit his lip. "Can you forgive me?"

I smiled slightly. "You can go now."

He turned reluctantly to leave.

I picked up the mug, took a perfunctory sniff, and pressed a discreet button on my desk.

"Mr. Coleman is suspected of product tampering," I said into the internal mic. "Security, please detain him."

Jax went ballistic. "You're lying! You're making this up!"

I pointed to the mug. "Did you know that all Sterling executive drinkware is custom-made?"

He stared blankly.

"They have micro-sensors in the base," I explained, showing him my phone screen. "Theyre programmed to identify common pharmaceutical agents."

The screen displayed a notification: Laxative component detected. This is the 23rd detection this year.

Jax's face was chalk-white. "You... you're hallucinating!"

Security burst through the door.

"You can't arrest me!" he shrieked.

I pulled out a thick stack of files.

"We can," I said. "This is the documentation for the eighty-nine individuals who have attempted to spike my drink over the past five years. Every single one is currently facing charges."

As the security guards hauled him away, he was still screaming, "Tristan Stone! You just wait! I'll be back!"

Two weeks later, Jax, ever persistent, managed to secure an entry-level internship at the company.

Within days, he was in the breakroom, spreading rumors.

"Did you hear?" he whispered to a group of colleagues. "Tristan, the director of the battery division? He got the deal by sleeping his way to the top."

A colleague, Liam, looked up from his tablet. "Sleeping his way with what?"

"With Mr. Zhao, the CEO of the rival firm!" Jax elbowed Liam conspiratorially.

Liam laughed. "Are you not aware of Tristans track record? He won an International Programming Championship at fifteen, founded his first tech firm at eighteen. Hes closing multi-million dollar deals on his merit. He needs to sleep with people?"

Jax choked. "Then why does he get all the big projects?"

"Because hes brilliant," another colleague, Chloe, interjected. "He writes code that most of the company cant even decipher."

Jax was stubborn. "Youve all been fooled by him!"

Liam threw his hands up. "Seriously, Chloe, which number is this guy?"

Chloe counted on her fingers. "Seventeenth this year."

Jax was confused. "You don't believe me?"

Liam gave him a cold look. "I was claimant number thirty-eight last year." He stood up and pointed a finger at Jax. "Tristan didnt press charges. He actually gave me a job. Hes more benevolent than you deserve. Why do you think you can spread this nonsense and still walk free?"

Jax went pale.

The HR manager walked in. "Mr. Coleman, this is a formal warning. Another incident and youre terminated."

Jax gritted his teeth. "By whose authority?"

The manager held up her phone. "By the authority of this audio recording. Everything you just said was captured."

I smiled from the surveillance room. Jax really thought the Sterling breakroom was a secure place for gossip?

My then-fiance, Blair Ashford, came by the office to see me.

Jaxs eyes lit up.

He "accidentally" ran into her in the elevator.

"Oh!" He faked a stumble and tried to fall into her arms.

Blair immediately slammed the emergency stop button. "Security. Code 29 on the third floor. I have a trespasser."

Jax was stunned. "Ms. Ashford, Im the new intern..."

Blairs voice was icy. "You are the 29th attempt this year. Try a new tactic."

Jax didn't give up.

He manufactured several other "chance encounters."

The breakroom, the hallway, the executive parking garage.

Blair finally seemed to take the bait.

"Mr. Coleman." She cornered him in the stairwell. "Do you have too much free time?"

Jaxs face flushed. "Ms. Ashford, I was just..."

"Just what?" Blairs eyes were predatory. "Trying to seduce me?"

Jax bit his lip. "Tristan doesn't deserve you..."

Blair leaned in close to his ear. "And you do?"

Just like the previous twenty-nine times, she semi-reluctantly allowed Jax to lead her away.

I watched the surveillance feed and shook my head.

Anyone who uses their body to plot corporate gain is a fool. (Though I wasn't suggesting the one being lured wasn't one either.)

That evening, I called a private family meeting.

"Mom, Dad," I said. "I think the Ashford family is no longer a suitable match for an alliance."

Dad frowned. "Whats the issue?"

I presented my tablet. "The Ashford Group's financial reports have been doctored for the last three quarters."

Mom leaned in. "I noticed some inconsistencies."

"And," I swiped the screen, "Ms. Ashfords private investments are all money pits. She has no business sense. We cant have her draining the family capital."

Dad's face tightened. "How did you find this?"

I smiled. "I have my channels."

Grandma Eliza settled the matter. "Then we switch. Tristan has never been wrong about a deal."

Mom hesitated. "But the engagement..."

I showed them the latest security feed. "Ms. Ashford has been hit on by twenty-nine of the 'heirs' who've tried to replace me. She acts coy, but she's never actually succeeded in turning any of them down."

Mom looked closer at the footage. "Unacceptable."

Grandma slammed her hand on the table. "A woman with no loyalty is a liability! We will not have her!"

I nodded. "Phoebe Chads daughter, Phoebe Jr., is newly back from London. She has several cutting-edge tech projects."

Dad looked surprised. "How do you know about her?"

I pulled up the data. "Last year, twelve of the previous 'heirs' tried to hit on her, too. Every single one was shot down instantly."

Mom's eyes sparkled. "She sounds perfect!"

Grandma gave the final word. "Done. Were changing alliances."

As the meeting concluded, the butler rushed in, breathless.

"Mr. and Mrs. Sterling! Mr. Coleman is here! He has the DNA test results!"

I raised an eyebrow. "Oh? The results are in?"

Jax burst through the door, waving the report above his head.

"Dad! Mom!" His face was streaked with tears. "The results are back! I am your biological son!"