The Billionaire’s Pawn

STRIKER

“Welcome, sir Striker.” A butler in a white and black uniform welcomed me. “He’s been expecting you.”

“Thank you.” I didn’t ask how. I didn’t set an appointment to see Moses, but here I was, walking into the lion’s den.

Moses’ estate was like I’d never seen in the neighborhood. A late renaissance-inspired luxurious castle in the middle of the woods, but I had passed with three levels of security.

Passing through the longest hallway alone was tiring, but the whole place looked rich in king-inspired interiors.

“How many rooms are in this house?”

“This one alone, sir, has thirty-three.”

“Is that his lucky number or something?”

The butler smiled.

“So when you say alone, just this side?”

“Yes, sir.”

I nodded. I didn’t know if I should be amused or amazed. We stopped in front of the elevator.

“I’d like to walk if you don’t mind.”

“Of course, sir.”

We climbed up through the red-carpeted grand staircases. I couldn’t help but admire the whole place. I’d been to palaces, castles, fortresses, royal cottages, and manors, but this estate was different. Somehow, it gave me different vibes in a good way.

“Maybe the elevator was a good idea after all,” I told the butler. After a few turns, we finally reach a door, maybe a sitting or a lounge.

He knocked lightly before he pushed the two doors wide, revealing a massive room with another extraordinary interior. The color palette was light compared to the outside, with a sky-high ceiling that made the place more open and expansive.

“He’s in the room, sir. I will bring you some refreshments. Anything you like in particular?”

“I’m good. Thanks.”

He left and closed the door behind me. Once I was alone, I looked around. The paintings looked like they were hundreds of years old. I was deciding which rooms to go to. Right or left.

I chose left. When I knocked, a muffled voice answered, which I recognized instantly. I saw him sitting in front of the wide windows as soon as I entered.

“May I come in?” I asked politely. He may be a major asshole, but I came to his home and should give him some respect.

“You don’t have to ask. Come in.”

My pace was calculated. At the same time, I was looking around. It was typical but classy, with a sitting room. Then another room adjacent to it had a bed.

“Aren’t you supposed to be resting in bed?”

I didn’t realize he’d been watching me. “Come here. Sit with me.”

I went to him. He still had a sling around his arm, strapped to the neck. But the view before him caught my attention-it was spectacular, a golf course that could fit two football fields and what seemed to be a spring.

“Beautiful.”

“Your great-great-grandfather had protected that area. I keep that as it is, even what’s behind it.”

“This estate had been Braddson.”

“Hundred and thirty years. Braddson was coal-miners. Great-grandfather Timothy sold his watch and started his sweets and chocolates, then his sons. Seventy years ago, your great-grandfather, my grandfather, kept the confectionery and began another venture. The Hover. I inherited it from my father. Beatreigh runs the confectionery, and I run the Hover. That wasn’t easy. Everything has come from the sweats and blood of Braddsons.”

“I didn’t come here for a history lesson.” I remained standing. The spring just took my breath away, even from this distance.

“I know, son. You could have read it on the internet. I’m just glad that you are here. Beatreigh told me you visited me yesterday at the hospital.” His voice sounded pleased and felt like a stab to my chest.

“Dad insisted.”

“Tate’s a good man.”

“He is.”

“I know you hate me. And I know you have a lot on your plate right now. Congratulations, by the way. You should have brought London with you.”

“Thanks. She’s with her friend.”

“You know the pressure of filling one’s shoe, especially from your father who had been admired and looked after by millions of people? It changed someone into something you wouldn’t recognize anymore. I was that man. My father didn’t just hurt me physically, but he went to great lengths to break me emotionally and mentally. I wasn’t proud of what I’d done. Striker, I’ve done terrible things. God knows I’ve made tons of mistakes. I know you don’t want to hear it, but I will still say this. It was best for you without me. I’m glad you have a Dad like Tate. You grew up into a good man.”

“You’re such an asshole.” I couldn’t hear his excuses anymore. I didn’t want to listen to his bullshit. I tried hard to shut off his words, but my emotions got the best of me.

I felt my heart shatter into a million pieces upon hearing him admit that it was best for me without him in my life. What kind of man said that to his son? I guessed I had a good heart that ruled over my rage.

“I was consumed with my ambitions. My pride, my ego, when people started to acknowledge my work. My job devoured me. I lost interest-”

“I’m not interested in hearing your sob story. It’s growing old.”

He still continued, “I lost interest in my personal relationship. I was overly ambitious.”

“When you found out your girlfriend is pregnant, you threw her away. Yeah, I knew it already. As I said, it’s an old story.”

“It wasn’t easy.”

I snorted. “Did condoms not available those days?”

“I’m so sorry.”

“Oh, don’t apologize to me. I’m doing great, but to my mother.” I snorted again.

“If I could only take it back.”

“But you couldn’t. You said it yourself. I’m best with you.” It pissed me off that he had the guts to apologize when I didn’t need it anymore. “Maybe try building a time machine instead of aircraft, defense, and security.” Sometimes life was such bullshit.

He looked up at me with a sad smile on his face. “You’re just like your grandfather.”

I wanted to take it as an insult, but I let it pass instead.

“You visited your mother’s grave.” Finally, he changed the topic.

“Whenever I could, yeah.”

“That was the biggest mistake I’d ever made in my life. I still have the guilt inside me. A lot of regrets.”

“You couldn’t disappoint your father. I get that. Dad never pressured me to be the best in school or anything like that, but I still tried to impress him. And it never turned me into an asshole.”

He dropped his gaze, releasing a huge breath. “I wouldn’t change a thing, Striker. You might be running a billion-dollar company if I raised you, but you wouldn’t have met those boys like Linden.” I wasn’t surprised he knew my friends, even my engagement to London. My guess, he knew everything about me. “You wouldn’t have met Tate. You wouldn’t have a good dad-”

“I think that’s enough. I get it. If you are trying to shove all the good things that happened to me into my face, yes, I wouldn’t change a fucking thing. I’m happy without you. My life is still complete without you in it. I have a good man who raised me as his own because my own blood chose his wealth and power over me. I get that too. It had been cleared to me like that blue sky. I have good friends. I love my fiancee-” The last words stopped me. I just told my father, of all people. I inwardly chuckled. I just confessed that I loved London. I didn’t realize I had fallen in love with her in such a short time. I knew I cared deeply for her, but I didn’t understand what I truly felt until now.

“You can’t buy that kind of experience anywhere in the world.”

“I know.”

When he rose from the chair, he grimaced.

“Easy.” For the first time, I held him, and he held me back. “Where are you going?”

“I wanna give you something.”

“I don’t want anything from you.”

“I know, son.” He still walked away limply.

“In fact, I am here to give you your ring.”

“It’s a family tradition. Once you receive it, you can’t give it back.” He went to the bedroom.

“Well, I’m an exemption. You didn’t give it to me. Beatreigh had me keep it until you woke up.” I followed him and stopped at the door. When he went through the bedside, I looked away.Ccontent © exclusive by Nô/vel(D)ra/ma.Org.

“It wasn’t an accident that you have that ring, Striker. It’s yours.”

“You could have given me a jet. I would gladly take it.” I couldn’t believe I had just said that out loud.

He laughed softly. “I don’t think you will accept it. I know who you are, son. You don’t do charity cases.”

“Maybe you should get back to bed.”

“You can look.”

Then I turned around. He just opened a safe behind the bedside table. Great. I just found out where his safe was.

“I am the only one who knows about the safe. And you are now.”

“So I also have to carry this burden with me.”

“You are my son. You may know nothing about me, and you hate me-”

“I don’t hate you,” I just blurted out. I was angry, furious even, but not to the point that I hated this man. It came to my realization that I actually never hated him. Dad taught me well to see the good in people.

“I trust you with all my life.”

“That’s the drugs talking. Maybe you just took more painkillers.”

He walked in my direction after putting it back like it was before.

“Are you even allowed to stand or walk?”

“Yes. My doctor cleared me.”

“Cleared you to go home and rest. You can use that wheelchair. It has a remote, and all you have to do is press the buttons where you wanna go.”

I heard a knock.

“That’s Emory.”

“Your butler?”

“Yeah.” Then he offered me a stick.

“What’s this?”

“A USB, son.”

“I may not have billions, but I know what USB is, but what’s in that USB is, I don’t know.”

“Keep it with you, and I’ll explain once we are seated. Emory, bring it here.”

I had no choice but to take it. I slipped it into my jacket pocket. Seconds later, Emory came in carrying a tray of a teapot and cups. He put them on the table.

“Do you drink?” my father asked me.

“I’d rather not.”

“Tea then.”

I joined him back before the window. He then poured me tea into the cup.

“Does this tea worth thousands?”

He chuckled, humor filling his eyes. “It’s just tea, Striker.”

I sipped the tea. It was a good one, a little bit sour and bitter. “What’s this?”

“I have no idea. That’s what Emory prepared for me. He said there’s a healing effect.”

“Herbal tea. Tell me about this USB, Moses.” That was the first time I called his name since I came face to face with the father of the year, and it didn’t sound bitter and hurtful.

“What’s inside is worth Four hundred billion dollars.”

I almost dropped the cup. My mouth hung open. I swallowed hard and put the cup down in my shaky hand. “Excuse me?”

“That’s a four hundred billion dollar project.”

“And you just handed it to me, huh? Just like that.”