A Wife for the Billionaire
Chapter 47: SOFIA

Chapter 47: SOFIA

Someone once made this statement:

"Life is a partial bitch, giving more to those it favors and barely offering any to those it despises"

And I truly resonate with those words.

How was it that someone as privileged as Richard Wellington, was endowed with other talents on top of those already in his possession?

It’s simply unfair. Downright partial. If I didn’t know any better, I would say that he charmed life and in so doing, was endowed with more than he was supposed to have.

It’s already unfair that he was born to inherit a name that opened doors. To a family that was stinking rich and then he had to be blessed with such looks.

As if that was not enough, he is also really smart. Plus, he’s good at being a leader, and now it seems he’s not only one hell of a designer, but a terrific artist as well.

It’s just too much. Tendentious, even.

How can someone be so many things at once? How can someone who already possess so much be given so much more?

Does it mean that life is truly biased? Does that mean that the concept of yin-yang was a myth? A fantasy conjured to allow us believe that there’s an existence of balance. To fool us into believing that both sides of the scale are actually equal.

Anyway, I don’t live in that bubble. I guess my mind’s just too swith to fall for such spells. Or maybe, the stark contrast of my life to Richard’s formed the walls around my mind, warding it against the lies of equality.

Life is unfair and anyone who thinks otherwise is simply foolish or stuck brainwashed in a sit-com.

And that brings me to the second statement made by that same someone who made the first,

"And if she must be a biased bitch, why can’t she just do it for those who need it, not lavish more to those who obviously don’t need it"

Once again, I’m in total agreement. Some things aren’t supposed to be given to a certain kind of persons. Giving more to the already privileged is a waste. And though I was yet to fully ascertain the depth and measure of Richard’s talents, but it doesn’t take much deliberation to know that some of these talents are wasted on him.

There are so many of us who wish to be able to do even a fraction of the things Richard Wellington could do, but we are not as special.

And even if we were, without support - financial support and access, some of these talents follow us to the grave because no one gave us a chance, no one believed in us... no one invested in our dreams.

Perhaps the world had been perfect before what’s her name? Oh yes, Eve ate the forbidden fruit and convinced her husband to do the same.

That story had been told to us during my Sunday school days, those days life still had me naive to believe in God and go to church.

But I think in eating that fruit, everything changed. The world in its very foundations changed. Concepts became paralleled. Perfection made way for flaws. Exclusive to inclusive. Singulars to plurals and opposites.

I think it was on that day that life became glitchy and the concept of good and bad, white and black, yin and yang, dark and light... became far more complicated to ever balance.

With the new knowledge I had, the tour felt bland compared to things I imagined Richard sees or experiences on a daily basis. And I felt like kicking myself for feeling enthusiastic about it in the first place.

Harry led me back to where his office was, to the block with blue painted walls and white doors. He made me understand that, in his words;

"The Wellington Fashion Empire headquarters, dubbed the ’Wellington Spire,’ is a 50-story skyscraper that dominates the city’s fashion district skyline. This sleek, modern marvel is a testament to our brand’s unwavering commitment to style, luxury, and innovation."

"Anyway," he continued, " this is the executive level, from 41 to 50, and only top employees are allowed on this level. Each floor is easily accessible with the stairs"

He explained that this being the 50th floor held offices of the CEO, members of the board, senior clerks like him, the board room and offices for the Elders which remains empty because the Lords hardly ever take the running of official affairs... seriously.

He led me through that block, his colleagues found it funny, but Harry didn’t falter. He kept going, ignoring them.

I felt bad for him. This was all my fault and once again I was reminded what a terrible idea this tour was.

Back to the hallway, he told me that the side with white walls and closed doors were offices of members of the board, and the ever empty offices of the Lords.

From there we took the stairs down to level 41, he showed me around each level and then went into the elevator.

I had been so ecstatic about this tour, but now, not so much. If not because I intended to stall before going back to the Blake Mansion, I would have left already.

Harry was yet to truly accept me. He was yet to be receptive to me and this tour, and I suspected that he chose the elevator because he could no longer stand the stares. The snickering, the whispers, the fingers pointing.

He pressed the last button and as the elevator door dinged shut, an idea struck me. Perhaps I should read Harry.

But that’s just the thing with reading people, I might leave him more agitated and pissed when I was done. Or worse.

The thing with ideas is that once they bloom in the mind, it seldom does or withers away even if it’s not watered or encouraged.

I watched as we sped through floors, 39, 38, 37, 36. It felt like a countdown and with each floor we passed, it felt like I was running out of time.

"This is your chance to bring him to your side"

34.

"Just fucking read hism already"

My mind has never been subtle and in that moment, it kept yelling and screaming at me. Yanking at me to do its bidding.

As persuasive as it was, I could still say no, it won’t be easy but I could do it. And then what, won’t I regret it later. Won’t I wish I had just done its bidding and read Harry. Besides, if I’m always afraid of the aftermath of my reading, then this ability would just lay dormant until it follows me to the grave.

33.

"Um, Harry," I began, "do you mind if I read you?"

If I was going to do this, I would be needing his permission.

"Read me?" He asked. "What does that even mean? Like a book or what?"

"Erm, yeah. It’s a bit like reading a book except your attire becomes the pages. It’s something I do and I call it Sartorial Intuition"

"Such a fancy name, but how does this Sarto-whatever work?" He asked, genuinely intrigued.

"It doesn’t involve much, just taking in your appearance and reading what I see"

He was well dressed and as such was really optimistic of my reading even though he doesn’t have a clue of how it works. Or the possibility of revealing things that he wouldn’t normally want to.

"Well, it beats descending in silence, so go ahead"

I faced him, took a deep breath and cleared my mind. Like clicking a switch, my mind buzzed as if electrified. It was eager to discern, to furrow underneath and root out.

My eyes scanned Harry’s outfit, decoding the subtle cues.

"Harry, your attire speaks volumes. Your tailored blue jacket and white shirt exudes confidence and professionalism, reflecting your senior position at Wellington Fashion Empire."

"Is that the most obvious?" He snorted.

Like a voice coming from the bottom of a well, I heard me, but chose to ignore him.

"However, the slight fraying on your cufflinks suggests a hint of weariness, perhaps from shouldering heavy responsibilities. The subtle pattern on your tie indicates a creative streak, suppressed but not extinguished."

His mouth dropped, but I wasn’t done.

"The dominant blue and charcoal tones convey a sense of stability and tradition, but the subtle splash of burgundy in your pocket square whispers a touch of creativity and passion, longing to break free."

" How... how are you doing that?" He stuttered.

"Harry, your classic style, devoid of bold statements, reveals a practical and dependable nature. Yet, the crisp white shirt and impeccable grooming hint at a desire for control and precision. Your attire suggests a complex individual: reliable, creative, and driven, with a deep-seated desire for balance between reason and passion." I concluded.

As he stood still, looking at me like someone dazzled. I recollected my reading, word by word and thankfully there wasn’t any worth pissing him off the more.

25.

And yet, Harry was yet to utter a sound.

"Um, so, what do you think?" I asked.

I may not have said anything aggravating, but a part of me was in dread of his answer. And after everything I’ve been through today, I needed this small win. I needed his approval. I needed anything other than a defeat or loss.