Chapter Ten

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Dorian's POV

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Dorian's POV

I always enjoyed stories as a kid. My mom would always sit me down in her bed and read me tales of the prince saving the princess, the monsters being taken down by the king's army, or how the king would help his people. It would always start with once upon a time.

So let me tell you a story.

Once upon a time, there was an heir named Dorian Bradley – yep, you guessed it - me! Dorian Bradley was renowned for the beautiful company that he would have and the designer clothing he wore. What people didn't realise was that I was never really accustomed to that lifestyle. I may have had the odd company here and there, but it never really meant anything to me. I wasn't really romantic and let's just say upper-class girls from the city were very cunning with what they wanted. I was always careful in preventing a scandal. But not everything could be stopped. I kept myself clean and never did any drugs. The last thing anyone needed was a coked or drugged up Heir ruining the Bradley name and all the years of hard work and generational wealth.

Anyway, back to the story... Not too long ago, 2 years to be exact, Dorian Bradley and his father Marcus Bradley were invited to London to meet a potential partner and business associate. Like any other meeting, I wasn't in the best of moods. I didn't want to be impressed. I wanted the facts, the figures and people's experiences. I didn't see the point of potentially merging with someone like Rhys Jacobs.

"Think about it this way, if you take 5% ownership, you guys would have more than any other partner would!" Rhys pointed out.

"Well, it would be something that we could have a look at," Dad replied, looking over the notes briefly.

I looked up at Rhys, clenching my jaw. I had heard things in passing about him. Sometimes hearing things in passing could be true, especially being rich. Affairs came to light; hidden children would come out of nowhere or politicians' dirty spending could be seen. But with Rhys, I couldn't put my finger on it. There was something not right. If he was a rich man, why did he want to be richer? I didn't get it. Any other business owner or CEO I knew would want to keep things stable from then on. But no, greed was a powerful thing in this world.

As we said our goodbyes, both Dad and I left the meeting room. The sound of our footsteps echoing on the tiled floor could only be heard but us. There was no one else around. The moment we got to the elevators; the doors were open. It was as if it was waiting for us. Dad and I stood in the elevator – or as everyone in the UK preferred calling it, lift - in complete silence.

"I don't think we should-"

"You know-"

"Sorry Dad, you go first," I said with an apologetic smile.

"I was saying he has a daughter."

"Oh."

"Her name is Elinor, and I'm worried about her." Dad stated, looking down at the proposal booklets. My eyes furrowed in confusion. Why would my father would say something like this?

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