A Wife for the Billionaire

"Richard Wellington, I have had enough of your insolence! You must get a wife for yourself, or better still just get one of those your numerous chicks pregnant" Edward Wellington, the billionaire philanthropist, a great designer and fashion mogul still handsome in his early sixties with dark hair graying at the edges, dark keen eyes and a face that shines in every picture or ad he's featured in especially when stretched in a smile. The man I call my father, stormed.

Anger swelled in me, blinding and hot. Who was he to tell me what to do? I might be his son, but that doesn't give him the audacity to impose life changing decisions on me.

"My dear, your father is right, with your condition no one knows what can happen and when, so for the sake of the empire, just give us an heir" my mom, the famous model and actress still dazzling in her fifties with long dark lustrous hair, gray eyes, well accentuated nose, red lips, an ageless face like that of an angel and a body like that of a goddess, Claire Wellington added.

I really can't count how many times I've been forced to listen to this. I just wish they would care about me more than their empire.

The Wellington Empire was a fashion brand that had reigned for generations. It was a legacy with designs that can't be rivaled, and now it has fallen on me to uphold the legacy. But first of all, I must get married and sire an heir to maintain our position as the head family.

I was about to give them a response, when my mom continued looking away from me to her husband,

"But honey, surely you don't mean that he should impregnate any girl. Imagine the ruin that would do to our reputation and with the new collection a few months from launch, a scandal is the last thing we need. Besides, I'm already planning something "

"At this rate, I care less of our name and I don't give a fuck about the collection. I have the Elders breathing down my neck, ready to install another if your hothead of a son dies without an heir, so whatever you are planning, hasten up" My father finished, running his hand on hair as he rose and paced the room.

For my father to swear, they must really have him at the balls. "Should have known this was the handiwork of those gaffers" I thought to myself. The Elders were heads of the four founding families of the supposed Wellington Empire... or should I say, my Empire.

They were Lord Thomas Grey, Lord Henry Fisher, Lord Frederick Day and Lord William Manson, these men had been trying to usurp my family from overseeing the empire for years now. Even their ancestors had tried and I wager their future generations will still continue in such fruitless attempts.

The most thwarty of them all, was Lord Thomas Grey. Rumor has it that his great-great-great-great grandfather, Paul Grey had invested one third of the capital, Wellington Empire was founded with. My own great-great-great-great grandfather, Charles Wellington had been the brains behind the business and as such his name was chosen as the brand.

Paul Grey had fumed at that, blatantly insisting that as the most investor, his name should represent the brand. That notion of his had threatened to crumble the rising empire.

It had taken a vote from the other Lords before the matter was resolved and my name, 'Wellington' remained the brand name. But the Greys never forgot or forgave, each generation carried that grudge plotting and ploying to have the Wellington name removed as the brand name.

Over the years, they've managed to poison the hearts of the other families against us and with such a rally of support, they would have succeeded already except that my ancestor Charles, had been smart. He had added in the company's deed that the brand name can only be changed when his progeny fails to succeed the position of the head family in the case of not having an heir.

So I totally understand why my parents are worked up as they are, but I really wasn't dying anytime soon, no matter what the physicians say. A man can change his fate.

" Can you stop already, who says I'm dying soon, afterall didn't the doctor say that I still have at least ten more years" I quipped, eager to be anywhere else than sitted in front of my parents in our sitting room.

" Listen to yourself. Claire, do you hear the nonsense coming out of your son's mouth? At his age, a score and quad, he still thinks he's young and foolish enough to tempt the hands of fate. What happens when the favor of our ancestors run out, or fate decides to run its course? Tell me boy, what happens then?!"

It's true I wasn't born to live long. I'm one of those persons whose fate has already been decided even before we came to be.