LOVING A CALLOUS BILLIONAIRE: DECEIT AND LOVE

Hannah's POV

"On today's news report, the head of the Davidson family, Robert Davidson, breathed his last. After struggling with brain cancer for six months, the billionaire industrialist has finally kicked the bucket through a heart attack. His daughter, Elizabeth Davidson, disclosed the news to the public in Dan's Care Hospital. According to her, the tragedy happened at 3 a.m. this morning. As we speak, the Davidsons are still finding it difficult to leave the hospital. Robert's death is preceded by a remarkable plummet in the family's stock. Once again, the Davidson stock has fallen by over 25%. This is in sync with the 45% decline it experienced a month ago. According to experts, investors are becoming seemingly uninterested, and the family is running into bankruptcy. Our correspondent is closely following the case, and we will give you more reports later. Stay tuned," the news reporter stated.

I switched off the television and quickly rushed into my room to get myself a gown. I opened my wardrobe and draped myself in a blue sleeveless gown. The gown had a jacket and so, I complemented it with it.

I rushed to the garage where I met Philip, my driver. He was draped in a crisp black suit, doing nothing.

"Philip, I need to get to Dan's Care Hospital right now," I said, breathing heavily. "Like, very fast."

"Okay, ma. Let me get the keys to the 488," Philip said, rushing inside the mansion.

"Hurry!" I exclaimed.

I could only imagine how John was feeling right now. Ever since his father had been sick, he hardly spoke to anyone. Now, he would become mute.

Elizabeth was really strong in releasing the news to the public. She must have prepared herself emotionally for the moment. I knew for certain that John's mom, Amanda, would be wailing and crying uncontrollably in the hospital.

When Philip returned with the car keys, he quickly got into the car and opened the door to the passenger's seat. Without hesitation, I hopped into the red Ferrari 488 GTB. Philip started the engine and began our journey out of the estate with hyper speed.

We reached the hospital in fifteen minutes and just as I predicted, Mrs. Amanda Davidson was weeping profusely in the waiting room. Elizabeth stood by her side, unable to comfort her mother. The guards around let her mourn tearfully as she sat on the ground. Her black jacket had removed from off her shoulders and her black gown was saturated with tears.

I got close to Mrs. Davidson, but I paused when I saw Elizabeth shaking her hand. This gesture suggested that I should stay back and let the aged woman continue wallowing in her pain.

I sat close to Elizabeth, who was wearing a white short-sleeved shirt and a black gown. Her dark chestnut hair had been disheveled. Her eyes looked swollen and her skin looked pale. The once joyful friend I knew was now unrecognizable.

"I came immediately after I saw the news," I began. "I'm so sorry for your loss."

"He died at 3 a.m. this morning. He said he only wanted John in his room. Maybe he wanted to tell him something," Elizabeth sniffled. "He fought a good fight. He dealt that dreadful sickness for a long time."

I saddled Elizabeth in my embrace and said, "You have to be strong, Elizabeth; you just have to."

"He was the pillar of the family. What will happen now?" Elizabeth cried, softly.

"It's going to be okay," I said, with a drop of tear slowly cascading down my cheek.

I couldn't find the perfect words to comfort Elizabeth. I didn't even know who to comfort. Was it the wife that was crying uncontrollably? Or the daughter that looked sick? Or the son I didn't know where he was?

"Where's John?" I asked.

"I don't know," Elizabeth answered. "I saw him taking the stairs to the roof some time ago. I don't know what my father told him but since he died, John hasn't said anything."

"Let me go look for him," I said, letting Elizabeth out of my embrace.

"Okay," Elizabeth sobbed.

Taking the stairs, I shivered, thinking of what John would have become now.

John, the first child of Robert Davidson, was the heir to the Davidson family's wealth. We both attended the same high school and college. The tall athletic light-skinned figure grew up learning how to best handle this moment - the time when he would take control of his family's wealth.

John, since I knew him, was always so emotionally attached to his father. He would spend the hours he had after school working with his father in the office. He usually spent his holidays off college, learning from his father. He didn't need a business school; his father was everything.

At the top of the building, I met John. I could only see his back. His light skin was clad in a black suit. I walked towards him and noticed that his dark hair was meticulously combed. His brown eyes were fixated on the city below and his rose petal lips were mute. His feet were adorned with an Oxford - the expensive type. He just stood, letting the cool breeze blow past his skin.

"I came as soon as I heard the news," I stated. "I'm sorry for your loss, John."

"There are many young men who are dying to be me right now. They want to inherit this dwindling wealth," John sighed. "My dad meant everything to me. I just hope he is in a better place right now."

"I know so."

"Go home, your presence here doesn't change a thing. He's dead already," John said.

"I came here to sympathize with you and your family, John."

"My family doesn't need sympathy. Are you happy? Your family, the Andrews, is the richest in New York right now. I can only imagine how much celebration is going on in your home right now."

"What?" I questioned. "Are you insane? Why would think my family will celebrate your father's death?"

"The Davidson stock has fallen by 70%, investors are withdrawing their money from the company, my father is dead, and your father's plan is about to come into reality - a contract marriage."

"John, are you mad?" I questioned, angrily. "Why would you think I would concede with my father to destroy your family? Your father died of a heart attack; he wasn't assassinated. And the marriage wasn't even my idea. Why would you think such?"

"Because you've always loved me, and I've never loved you," John said. He gently walked away from my presence into the hospital.

A wave of pain hit my heart. John was right; I had always loved him, but he had never given me even a moment of peaceful discourse. It was either an altercation or a quarrel. I have had a crush on John since high school and for this reason, I've stayed single since then, praying relentlessly that he would notice me.

The arranged marriage, in question, was proposed by my father, Richard Andrew. He had proposed the marriage out of goodwill because he noticed the consistent drop in the wealth of the Davidsons. He proposed that since he had no male heir, John should marry me to keep Davidson's wealth afloat. John's father aggressively dismissed the proposal, stating that he would restore Davidson's wealth to its former glory. Perhaps, his incessant trials led him to heart attack.

John didn't like the idea of the proposed marriage but he knew, deep down, that it was the only way to save his family from bankruptcy. With this father's death, only God knew his next step.

John's POV

I saw a man wearing a white cloak, staring at the stars from the roof of the Davidson Tower. He had grey hair like my father and the cool night breeze blew past his attire. I nestled closer and asked, "Dad, is that you?"

"Have you ever wondered why our family has remained on top these past few years?" My dad said.

I drew nearer and replied, "Because you were the one leading?"

He folded his hands, still staring at the stars. "Wrong," he responded. "The Davidson family has remained on top because every leader it has had always made sacrifices. Sacrifice, my son, is the only way to keep the family's wealth afloat." His body slowly deteriorated, carried by the wind.

"What?" I questioned, running towards my dad's body. "What do you mean? Are you trying to say I should marry Hannah?" I tried to touch the pieces of his body, but it was like dust. All I could hear were echoes of his voice saying, "Sacrifice."

I awoke suddenly, lifting my head from the pillow. Despite the air conditioning, sweat lingered on my forehead. "It was just a dream," I murmured. Dressed in blue pajamas and flip-flops, I headed to the dining room's mini bar. There, I discovered my mom, adorned in white pajamas, soaking herself in a glass of Screaming Eagle Cabernet 1992. I retrieved a glass from the bar and poured some wine from my mother's bottle into my glass.

"You can't sleep too?" My mother said, weakly. "I tried, but his voice keeps echoing in my head."

"I saw him in a dream. The only thing he said to me was, 'Sacrifice is the only way to keep the family's wealth afloat.' He disappeared afterward," I gulped my wine.

"That wasn't him, John; it's your head," she dropped her glass on the table. "This is the most difficult time in Davidson's history. Who would have thought that a time would come when wealth amassed over centuries would diminish in the wink of an eye? A huge portion of our investors have left. The board of directors is dead, and the only existing investors we have are bleeding in losses. Soon, we won't be able to afford the barest minimum - gasoline."

"That time won't come, mom. I won't let it."

"What else will you try? Since your dad has fallen ill, you've been running the family business. John, you have tried every possible idea you could think of. You've spent money employing great minds but still, the company keeps falling. It's over, John."

"We still have one more option," I glanced at my mother.

"The Andrews? I bet they'll be jumping around in joy right now. The almighty Davidsons have fallen."

I refilled my glass and said, "I will do it; I will marry her."

"Honey, you don't have to make such a grave mistake, because you want to keep the family's wealth afloat. I mean, what's life if you've got money and you don't have happiness?"

"My happiness died when Dad died. He was right; sacrifices must be made," I gulped my glass of wine.

My mother sighed. She stopped talking because she knew the type of son she had. She knew that once I had set my mind on something, no one could change it. Another thing that contributed to her silence was frustration. Words couldn't help this moment, so why speak too many?

In the morning, the Andrews were surprised to see me in their living room. The head, Mr. Richard Andrew, dressed in his black suit, sat on the grey plush couch and inquired, "John? To what do I owe this visit?"

"The least you could do I offer a soon-to-be son-in-law a seat," I responded.

His eyes widened slightly. He apologized, "My bad. Please have a seat," he gestured at a couch that stood next to his. His wife, Mrs. Mirabel Andrew, and her daughter, Hannah, sat on a couch just directly opposite mine.

"What do you want, John?" Mrs. Andrew asked.

"The same thing you want," I answered. "I accept the proposal you made before my father's death. I will do it; I will marry your daughter."

A smile encompassed Mr. Andrew's face as he said, "The boy has come to his senses. I always knew you had it in you."

"What are you doing, John?" Hannah asked. "I thought you would rather go to hell than marry me?"

"Oh, he's already in hell. That's why he came running over here," Mrs. Andrew placed her right hand on the armrest of the couch.

"Isn't it intriguing that he has let go of his pride?" Mr. Andrew turned to me. "Just like I told you before, it would take more than expertise to get your family back on track. Out of good will have I offered this help to your family. But today, I'll ask my daughter for her consent. If she agrees, my family and I will arrange the wedding but if she doesn't, your family can go rot in hell."

A wave of shock washed over me. This wasn't the agreement. The agreement was that the Andrews would give me their daughter's hand in marriage when I was ready. I kept silent, hoping that Hannah wouldn't take into consideration the harsh words I had told her yesterday.

Mrs. Andrew turned to her daughter and asked, "Dear, what do you say? Will you marry him?"

Mrs. Andrew's question was followed by a moment of silence in the room. All eyes were fixed on Hannah now. This could only end in two ways - me leaving this building brokenhearted or going to prepare for a wedding with someone I don't love.

"I will do it; I will marry him," Hannah answered.

Mr. Andrew turned to me and said, "Go home and relax. My family and I will take care of the rest. We will also forward the date of the wedding to you."

I stood to my feet, stared at the expensive work of art that adorned the walls, and expressed my gratitude, "Thank you." I left the building afterward.

Though my father had never seen the Andrews as his rivals, I saw them as a vicious, money-thirsty family that would do anything to stay on top. My decision was about to stir a whirlwind of events; events that would change the course of my life.

Elizabeth's POV

"Ding dong," the doorbell rang. As I hastily made my way to the door, I wondered who would be visiting my family in such an early morning. When I opened the door, I met Francis, the Davidson's estate mailman. He donned a gray long-sleeved collared shirt beneath a sleeveless blue jacket. The jacket featured a small tag on the side indicating "Postal carrier." Black trousers adorned his legs, paired with sturdy black boots. Completing the look, he wore a blue cap that matched his jacket, concealing his black hair. He had a blue messenger bag around his right arm and a couple of documents on his left.

"Good morning, ma," Francis greeted. "Your family has a mail from the Andrews." He retrieved the mail from his bag.

"Good morning," I replied. "The Andrews? That's surprising."

Francis handed over the mail to me and gave me a delivery receipt and a pen to sign. I inscribed my signature on the receipt and returned it to Francis.

"That will be all for now," he said.

"Please wait," I pleaded, rushing into the living room. When I returned, I gave him an envelope that had a couple of hundred dollar notes in it.

He swallowed and said, "Ma'am, this is against the tenets of my job."

"Will they find out if you and I don't tell them?"

He shook his head and said, "Thank you so much." He returned to his scooter.

Francis had been the mailman since I was in high school. He worked in the Davidson Postal Service and was tasked with the duty of delivering mail to every occupant in Davidson's Estate. Though his income had reduced these last few months due to my family's dwindling wealth, he persisted. My father had this habit of tipping him each time he would come to deliver mail to our doorstep, so I only emulated my father.

I sealed the door and went back in with the mail. I sat in the dining area and opened the mail. John joined me in the dining area, retrieved a bottle of wine and a glass from the mini bar, and sat on a chair against the dining table. "We have a mail," he said, pouring the wine into his glass. "Who is it from?" He sipped his wine afterward.

"It's from the Andrews," I answered, reading through the letter.

Unsettled, John said, "You don't need to read that."

"'We have arranged and decided that the wedding between you and Hannah will be held next week on Saturday, the 10th of November, in Saint Francis Xavier Church'," I read. "Wedding? John, what's going on?"

John sipped his wine and said, "The only way to save our family; is what's going on!"

"Save our family from what?"

"Do you want to be broke, Elizabeth? Do you want to live like the peasants on the streets? Or don't you think this family has gotten enough already?" John questioned, loudly.

"I'd rather be broke than see my brother indulge in something that will make him wallow in pain for life!"

My mother, walking from the stairs, asked, "It's morning for God's sake. What in God's name is going on?"

I turned to my mother and said, "Your only son is about to make the greatest mistake of his life. He has accepted Andrews's proposal to marry Hannah because he wants to save this family!"

My mother reached the dining area and questioned, "Save this family? Who do you think you are? God?"

"Dad's funeral is tomorrow, many of our businesses have folded, the estate has lost denizens, investors are leaving, and you're talking about God? Where has He been all this time?" John stood to his feet.

"John, we don't hate that family, but you do. How do you want to spend the rest of your life with someone you don't love?" My mother asked.

"I don't know, but I know life requires sacrifices," John stormed out of the dining.

My mother sank onto a couch and cried, "Robert, what have you done?" She tried to wipe her tears with her handkerchief, but that didn't help.

I gently patted my mother on the back and said, "It's going to be okay, Mom."

On the day of my father's funeral, John was nowhere to be found. Everyone, including the Andrews and family friends, was in church, but the firstborn decided not to show up. I understood why he didn't show up - it would augment his pain. As the ceremony unfolded, tears welled up in the eyes of my mother and sniffles echoed in the hallowed hallway. Photographs displayed on a nearby table chronicled moments of joy, laughter, and shared experiences. My father's casket stood opened, revealing the handsome old man in a well-tailored black suit.

My mother was invited to give her eulogy. She climbed the podium and began, "He was my husband, my best friend, and my business partner. I don't know how to put my words, but I know that his death has left an emotional scar in my heart. One that I will hold till I meet him in paradise." She sobbed and left.

Following the eulogies by my and family friends, the congregation filed out, forming a line that led to the waiting cars outside. Umbrellas opened against the threat of the rain as the procession made its way to the cemetery.

When we got to the cemetery, the priest recited Ecclesiastes chapter 3. And when my father's casket was put in the grave, my mother took a shovel and poured some sand into the grave. I did the same, and that was when I caught sight of my brother, staring from afar. Even amongst the array of black dresses, the tears on his face were so evident.

At the end of everything, I felt a soft touch on my shoulders. It was Hannah. She looked at me and hugged me. "Everything will be okay, Elizabeth," she said, letting me go of her embrace.

"Thanks for coming, Hannah," I expressed.

"It's the least I can do," she took her leave.

As much as I had always wanted Hannah and my brother to get married, I never wanted it to be under such circumstances. I wanted both of them to do it willingly, but it seemed my prayer wasn't going to get answered.