A Wife for the Billionaire
Chapter 60: RICHARD

Chapter 60: RICHARD

"Lanke, come pick my bag and bring the car upfront" I ended the call as I made my descent down the stairs.

There were scarcely any people left in the hallway as I walked back to my office. Vera sat at her desk, rising immediately she saw me approach.

"Sir, I... um_"

"What are you still doing here?" I quipped, cutting her off as I swinged the doors open. "Haven’t I made it clear that you can leave when the other staff do, so what are you still doing here?"

"I’m well aware of that, but Sir, I don’t know if you remember, but I had wanted to tell you something _"

"Is it a matter of life and death?" I interrupted.

"Well no, Sir, but um_"

"Great, you can tell me tomorrow. Now get your things and get the fuck out of here"

I was still organizing the files on my desk when Lanke appeared on the doorway.

"Good evening Sir"

"Just get the bag, nothing is good about this evening." I said, snatching my jacket and making for the door.

As the elevator dropped us on the lobby, I had to go and see Millicent Covey, one of the head stylists.

The corporate offices and departments close by 6pm, but the shopping malls and the floors used for shopping purposes remain open for our customers.

It’s a 24/7 service and decorum had to be put in place.

"Hello Millie"

She paused from the mannequin she was dressing.

"Good evening Sir,"

"Millie, you are expected to try your best to make sure there’s no drama. I hate to be woken in the middle of the night about matters of this place. Have I made myself clear?"

"Yes Sir" a nervous swallow.

By the time I walked to the car, Lanke was there already.

"Where to Boss?" he asked as soon as I closed the door after me.

"Just take me to the Wellington Estate."

I don’t remember much about the drive, one moment I was awake, my eyes trailing the golden lights we swooshed past and the next, I reclined my head and sleep claimed me.

Call it instincts or whatever, but I jerked awake as soon as the black metal gates swung open after Lanke stated his identity.

The Wellington Estate, nestled in the heart of New City’s Lamptons, exuded opulence and refinement. This majestic mansion sprawled across 15 acres of meticulously manicured lawns, surrounded by towering oak trees and serene water features.

Lanke drove past the lush gardens, carefully tended by Ham and his team of horticulturists. Past the statue of my great-great-great-great grandfather Charles Wellington, made a turn, circled the Medusa fountain and braked at the stairs that led up to the heavy oak doors.

Classic Georgian-style, with symmetrical facades, columned porticos, and elegant dormer windows. Built with limestone, granite, and cedar shake, to blend seamlessly into the natural surroundings. With an array of soft cream, warm beige, and subtle gray, evoking a sense of timeless elegance, the place I had grown up stood like an imposing presence.

With a sigh, I mounted the stairs, Lanke trailing behind.

"No," I said, halting him, "after the discussion we are about to have, I doubt I would want to sleep here. Go wait in the car."

Flatting my palm on the biometric scan, Squik said in that robotic voice of hers,

"Welcome, Master Richard" as the oak doors swung open.

I walked into the grand foyer that I can’t count how many times I have stood in, with its sweeping staircase elegantly leading to the upper floors, adorned with intricate ironwork and crystal chandeliers.

The polished marble floors, reflecting the warmth of the chandeliers. The walls - adorned with priceless art pieces, carefully curated over the years by generations of Wellington Lords.

I remember trying to add some of my paintings on the walls, but Edward had insisted that my works were too novel to contend with the likes of Michelangelo’s and Da Vinci’s.

We had fought for a week before he succumbed to allowing Belle at the Bell to stay on the walls at the office.

Joyce, a servant approached me,

"Sir, may I take your jacket? And should I alert the kitchen staff of what you would be having for dinner?"

"I don’t intend to stay. Where’s Claire?"

"My madam strictly ordered us not to disturb her," at my intense glare, she added, stuttering "but she’s... um... in the cabana"

Veering towards the left door, I made my way to the cabana. Past the sparkling pool, blue under the glow of the lights installed under. Making my way through the lounge chairs, I found Claire FaceTiming with Harold Whyte, one of the most famous movie directors of the 21st century.

A glass of red wine and the bottle was trayed beside her laptop.

"If I’m going to take that part, then you will have to make it worth my while." Claire was saying as I approached.

"Oh Richard" she called once she saw me, "say hello to Harold, surely you know who he is. Harold, this is my son - Richard. Richard, Harold" she made the introductions.

"Hello Harold" I said, waving sarcastically.

"Hello" he waved back.

"What do you want, as you can see I’m busy" Claire said, returning her attention to the screen.

"Excuse me, Harold," I ended the call.

"What did you do that for? What right do you have to end my_"

"Exactly, what right do you have to summon 15 ladies for me to pick a wife from?"

"Excuse you?" she asked, taken back.

I knew it wasn’t really a question, more like an exclamation of surprise, but I still answered.

"Please don’t act dumb with me, you know exactly what I’m talking about" I gulped the glass and didn’t even bother to refill it.

"I’m still your mother no matter what I’ve done and this is what mothers do" she said, her face masked with pain because of my words.

It’s not really that I don’t want to forgive her for cheating on Edward and almost wrecking our family by it, but how could I? How could I when I look at her and all my mind pictures is her in another man’s arms?

If anyone should feel the way I did, it was Edward. He should still be angry at her, but he wasn’t or maybe he’s really good at hiding it. Whereas I just couldn’t let go.

"My mother, you say. But I wonder if you remembered that when you... you know what, I don’t even want to be reminded of the past."

She didn’t speak until she had refilled her glass and emptied it.

"I’ve apologized time and time again, over and over again, so I guess you don’t want to forgive me, and that’s fine. But that doesn’t mean that I will not perform my parental duties and helping you start your own family is number one on the list. So, rant all you want, hate me all you want, but you see this..."

She showed me the list of ladies in her laptop.

"This - which I’m sure Vera has shown you because I sent her a copy, are the ladies and they are all from respectable families. So, if you’re canceling, think about what would happen if these families expose us. An exposure by 15 families is a scandal that I doubt we’ll be able to rise from, so choose wisely"

She had me trapped and she knew it. Calling it all off would add fifteen families to the list of Wellington enemies and heaven knows, we have more than enough foes as it is.

With our new collection, months away from launch, we couldn’t afford anything scandalous.

With a huff, I snatched her laptop, sat and went over the names.

"You know what you’ve done and now, you mock me to make a choice when we both know there’s none. I will go along with it, but one thing I will never go along with is having a sloppy second on my list, Lucy Train, the single divorced mother. What in fuck’s name is she doing on the list?!"

"I had to add her, she’s dedicated, kind, obedient, hard working and very beautiful_"

"What does that have to do with anything? All these qualities mean nothing when she can’t even hold her family. So, hear this and hear it clearly, I will not have anything to do with a woman whom another man toyed with over and over again. That’s beneath me" I said, my gaze fixed on the soft ripples of the pool caused by the evening breeze.

"That’s ridiculous, are you trying to tell me that all the girls you’ve been with are

virgins?" She asked.

"Of course they aren’t, but at least it wasn’t evident. Nothing says ’sloppy second’ like having a child and I’m afraid you will have to find a way to get her out of the list and no, it’s not negotiable."

"Does this mean I should start testing them?"

I was already walking away before she asked that, halting me.

"No, you will do no such thing. You’ve done more than enough, I will handle it from here. Goodnight."

And just like that, the selection began.