Broken Billionaire

"It had been a chilly evening in the city of New York. I had just finished living one of the most exceptional evenings of my life. The soft cool breeze struck my face as I descended from Mark's sleek black Audi SUV. "Thanks for an incredible night," I vocalized, leaning on the window, giggling. "Your presence made it incredible," he retorted. My lips sculpted a beautiful smile. "Goodnight, darling," he extended his palm to touch the tip of my finger. As I began to walk away slowly in my Jimmy Choo heels, I rotated towards the humming noise of his window sliding further down.

"Do you need me to escort you in?" he inquired gently. "No, it's alright, I'll manage," I responded hastily. He inclined further from the window, moving nearer to me, and I ambled a step closer to him. "I love you," he said, and we leaned in for an impeccably timed kiss through the car window. "I love you too," I retorted as I turned swiftly to ascend the steps to my apartment building. It was notably chilly outside. "Welcome back, Miss Sophia," Kent, the security guard, greeted with a playful tone as I ambled past him. "Glad to return, Kent," I rejoined in an equally playful tone, patting his arm and giving a slight wink. I entered the elevator and hit the button for the top floor - our family penthouse. As the elevator journeyed upward, I retrieved my phone from my clutch to see an avalanche of notifications from my friends sharing about some party at a new club and the new people they met there, causing me to chuckle as I walked into my penthouse. It was around 11:30 at night, and I had been hoping my parents were not home. To my dismay, a voice echoed from the office; it was my father. "Sophia, I need you here," his tone demanded sternly. I was curious if I had breached my curfew, which had been set at 11 PM since my seventh grade, a rule I had not respected for years. I placed my Louis Vuitton bag on the counter and moved towards his office, my heart pounding. Once inside, he curtly ushered me to sit across from his desk. "Where have you been? Who were you with?" He probed, his tone teetering on irritation. "I spent the evening with Mark, can you explain what's going on?" I retorted with my most innocent voice. His scowl and irritated demeanor only deepened. "I requested you home early this morning because we had vital matters to discuss," He was practically roaring at this point as I faintly recalled him expressing this while I was drying my hair for school earlier this morning....

"I'm terribly sorry, I may have forgotten. What's so urgent that you wish to discuss?" I replied in my most innocent voice. His tone softened when he began recollecting tales about his childhood best friend, Aron Arthur.

I had heard many a tales about him, about the epoch my father had spent with him during their adolescence. I also knew about his extraordinary wealth, significantly surpassing that of my family, which is a rare occurrence. He was born into affluence, and is now ranked amongst the wealthiest men in the nation. My father then redirected the discourse towards AronArthur's son, Andrew, who my father claims is slightly older than me. I showed my disapproval, well aware that he is at least five years my elder. I scarcely heard about Andrew, mostly due to his boarding school attendance since the tender age of seven, somewhere in California. Thus, I listened with rapt attention.

"The time is ripe for Andrew to take over his family venture, but he needs a wife for that." my father proclaimed. The thought of a marriage at such a tender age made me shudder.

"His father and I have forged an agreement and business deal, thus you will be wed to Andrew."

My immediate reaction was chuckling, presuming my father was jesting. However, his stern look instantly alarmed me.

"You will be getting wedded as soon as possible," was his stern command in an unusually possessive and controlling tone that he generally reserved for my mother.

Without delay, I rebutted that I'm just seventeen, too young for marriage, and that this is simply not happening. I still could not fathom what he was conveying.

His intense stare heightened, and so did his tone.

"You are to wed Andrew; this is not up for debate. Leave my office now, this discussion is over" he demanded.

His tone was frightening and severe, triggering tears. The image of my father began to blur.

"Leave NOW!" he yelled once more, compelling me to dash from his office, running straight into my mother.

"Did you know about this?" I questioned, my voice trembling with grief. My mother looked at me with compassionate eyes clouded with sorrow.

"Yes, and this will turn out beneficial," she comforted me.

"How could you?" I screamed, snatching my handbag from the counter as I bolted from her, stormed into my bedroom and slammed the door shut.

"Collapsing onto my bed, the urge to shed tears and vent to my friends overcame me, so I retrieved my phone from my bag and attempted to call them. However, none of them responded to the Group FaceTime call as they were all at some party at the new club on 6th Ave. I peeled off my garnet, skin-tight Oscar De La Renta designer dress that I had worn for my date with Logan the previous night. Once it was removed, I unclad entirely and immersed myself into my bath, pre-filled with warm water at my request to the housekeeper earlier that morning.

A sense of relaxation washed over me as I sunk into the tub, the aroma of lavender bath salts filling my nostrils. How was marriage at only seventeen, as a senior in high school, possible? Having a boyfriend compounded the complexity of the situation! My thoughts jumbled as tears continued to cascade down my face, vanishing into my bath.

Laid in my bath, reliving the past 20 minutes repeatedly until finally, I rose and carefully stepped out of the tub onto the heated marble floor. Wrapping myself in a warm towel that had been warming on the towel bar, my body greeted the heat gratefully.