A Wife for the Billionaire
Chapter 87: RICHARD

Chapter 87: RICHARD

Power.

The concept. The feeling. It’s the most euphoric of all drugs.

The thrill of it hits more than any drug could. It’s a whole different kind of high. It’s intoxicating. And like every other drug... it’s hella addictive.

But I don’t really care. That feeling of being on top, being the one others respected, it’s something I don’t ever want to lose, so yeah, I’m addicted to it, so fucking what?!

The fear in Lucy’s eyes. The dread in her voice as she begged. That’s power. It’s respect. It’s my best kind of high.

I left the hospital practically walking on the clouds. I was floating. And the thing with power is that like other drugs, no matter how many times you take it, that feeling of euphoria never gets old. It thrills and it fucking feels the same every time.

Lanke hates it. He knew what I just did. It was clear in his face, but the good man was cool enough to keep it to himself. He said nothing as he opened the door for me, and after I told him to take me back to the office, he only nodded in response.

I guess he’s like that because he has never gotten a taste of the drug. Lanke grew up poor, and with his skin color, people treated him and his family like shit.

He seldom talked about it, but I could see it. He wasn’t really free from all that. He still can’t look me in the eye at times. He bows his head when he meets with people like me, and I don’t think he knows that he does that.

I didn’t feel pity, but the sight is always pitiful. No offense, I liked Lanke, but if he was my dad, I sure as hell would do anything to not be like him.

I guess that’s the thing about power, everyone wants to have it and I mean everyone. Many would pretend not to, but if the hieroglyphics of their hearts were to be read, the desire to be respected, to say things and have them obeyed, to be in charge, to take control; that would be among the first five on the list.

But power is not meant for everyone, it’s meant for those who are willing to take it. Those who would do anything to possess it, those who are strong enough to handle its effect.

Power is meant for people like me, those who got what it takes to look a man/woman in the eyes and not give a fuck. Those who have what it takes to assume control and have the heart to do whatever it takes to keep it that way.

My past generation of Wellington Lords, right from Charles, knew what power meant and that is why they did everything to make sure it remained within their grasp.

Of them all, I’m most proud of Charles, the first Wellington to take a step. From what I have read and heard, life for the Wellingtons weren’t always like this. Charles’ father was just a cotton farmer, and so was his own father dating back a few decades back.

It was Charles’ determination to be more, to be like the men whom his father respected, to be like those that others wished to be like. That was what made him stand out.

Thinking about it, perhaps power is among the thesaurus of dreams. Nobody would deny the fact that his/her dreams pertain to power and respect. We all want to be that person whom others inspire to be like. We want to be the boss, but like I said before, such is not meant for everyone.

We are all privy to dream, but only a few of us actually see our dreams through. And those didn’t see it easy. From what I’ve gathered, Charles’ father, Derrick, threatened to disown him after he spoke up about turning the farm to a mill.

He believed that in using the farm as a loan to secure the funds needed to start up the mill, he had doomed the family and the one thing passed down from generation to generation.

But Charles has pulled through, it wasn’t easy at all, but he did it. He pursued his dreams and actualized them. From a mill, he joined forces with other like-minded individuals and built an empire. And from generation to generation, Lords after Lords, CEO after CEO, the Wellington Empire became what it is today.

People say that power corrupts. But I think it’s just jealousy by those who can’t acquire power. That is just their way of not letting themselves feel bad for what they couldn’t achieve. And those who have power and feel bad because of those very words, or allow themselves to curtail what they have, sorry to say this, but you guys are dumb.

Why would you allow people who have no idea what it means to be you, tell you what to do and what not to do. It’s simply, dumb. You worked your ass off for something, to be where you are and simply because you flaunted that achievement, you are told that you are corrupt. That what you have is

corrupting you.

What people don’t realize is that one can’t be the same, or better put, one can’t stay the same when he/she comes in contact with power. And no one should treat those beneath him like they are on the same level as him/her, because they don’t get what it means to be you. Or what it took to be where you are.

Power is never a bad thing. Never a bad feeling. It’s a matter of perspective. If you think treating those beneath you less means that power is corrupting you, then I fear you don’t deserve your power.

Acquiring power sets a bridge between those to be ruled and you who is to lead.

I, for one, would never feel bad for what I just did to Lucy. I think I’m too high on power to care or regret. But that’s the thing about power, it’s hard to let go of it. It’s hard to feel bad about its thrill. No wonder, men have gone to many lengths just to keep feeling powerful, just to have others beneath them. People to fear and respect them.

"Sir, we are here. Do you want to remain in the car?" Lanke asked, pulling me out of my reverie.

As I took in my surroundings, the fluorescent lights, the concrete pillars, the yellow and white markings, the muffled sounds of traffic and conversations above. We were in the underground garage of Wellington Headquarters.

And from the look of things, we had been for minutes now. And Lanke must have been too angry to tell me immediately. It must’ve taken a lot for him to put aside his anger and alert me to the present.

Patting him on his shoulder, even though I knew he hated it when I did that, I moved past him towards the lobby.

A few paces from the car, I called,

"Come get my case, Lanke. I want to get out of here"

My phone rang.

It was Aaron.

"Hello, his poutiness" I said, picking up.

"Don’t even get cocky, I’m still very pissed with you. I just called to remind you about Mrs Helen’s dinner. We are still not on the same page, but I sure as hell can’t go to Mrs Helen’s alone and I know neither do you, so get ready and meet me at Roxy’s"

"Hol’ up, are you still seeing Roxy? I

thought you dumped her because you couldn’t stand her"

"Hey, shush on that, she might hear you. Well, I dumped her, but decided to fuck her again, why do you care?" Aaron quipped.

"No judgment, just that you’ve never gone back to any girl whom you dumped before in the past." I answered, as the elevator began its ascent.

"Well, shit if I know why I did it, that girl I saw a few days back really did something to my brain. I can’t stop thinking of her and Roxy kinda looks like her, so you get the point. Wait, why am I even explaining this to you, I’m still very mad with your ass"

"Which girl are you talking about?"

"Meet me at Roxy’s and buy wine, you know the kind that Mrs Helen likes."

And before I could say anything else, he ended the call.

"Prick" I mused to myself.

In my momentary bliss of power, I had forgotten about our dinner with Mrs Helen and she hated it when we arrived late. One time, she almost whupped our ass for keeping her waiting.

Glancing at my watch, it was 7:20 meaning that I basically had forty minutes to get my ass over to Ramsey Estate.

And I best hurry the fuck up if I don’t want Mrs Helen all agitated. I didn’t even bother waiting for Lanke to come pick up my case, I grabbed it and dashed out of there. Yeah, Mrs Helen had that kind of power and we respected her.