1 The Billionaire’s Son

   The car finally stopped, and Miss Seraphina stepped out of the front passenger seat and moved swiftly to open the car's back door. Her neatly pressed uniform and the glint of her silver brooch added a touch of sophistication to her appearance. She beckoned for me to enter, her eyes twinkling with warmth and familiarity. "Welcome back to the outside world, Master Mark.." He slid into the backseat, sinking into the plush leather covering that cradled him like a soft embrace. The scent of fine leather mingled with a hint of fresh flowers, a fragrance familiar to the car's interior. Miss Seraphina settled into the seat beside him, her presence a calming sense of relief. They could finally leave now. The driver, a tall and stoic figure, sat behind the wheel with an air of professionalism. His dressing a mixture of black and white. He exuded an aura of reliability, his hands resting confidently on the steering wheel. As the car glided forward, leaving the city's bustling streets behind, the driver's steady focus on the road provided a sense of security, allowing him to relax into the journey. The car moved smoothly through the labyrinth of streets, the passing lights casting fleeting glimpses of the world outside. He leaned back, feeling the weight of the day slowly dissipating. The stress that had etched lines on his face was momentarily forgotten as he basked in the quietness that circled the car's interior. Miss Seraphina, ever perceptive, glanced at him with a knowing smile. "How was your day at the office, Master Mark?" she asked, her voice filled with genuine care. He sighed, allowing the weariness to seep out with his breath. "It was challenging, and I have a few persons I'd like to remove, " he confessed. I spent almost all day in one position. Miss Seraphina, that is crazy!" Miss Seraphina laughed. "I'm sorry, what? I know Mark would serve anyone who threatened to ruin his day a cold tea. What happened?" She seemed eager to know There was a concerned look in her eyes. "Wow… Well, that would be annoying." She nodded, her eyes reflecting both empathy and understanding. "Remember, Master Mark, you have the strength and resilience within you to overcome any obstacle," she said, her voice laced with wisdom. "You are your father's Son, and his legacy lives within you." Her words struck a chord deep within him, reminding him of the kind of highly respected family he came from—the weight of expectations and the drive to make a difference. He found solace in Miss Seraphina's presence, her unwavering belief in his abilities grounding him in moments of doubt. He was the CEO of the White Orca Company, the current number two company in the UK after his father's Green Leaf company. The passing scenery of the outside transformed from busy roads to elegant residential streets lined with towering trees and graceful houses. Finally, the car stopped in front of a grand mansion—an unending reminder of the luxury and success his father had built. The driver stepped out and opened the door for him, his gesture a nod to the respect and honor with which his family was regarded. He stepped out of the car, the cool evening breeze caressing his face. Miss Seraphina followed suit, her presence comforting him. The mansion's imposing facade stood tall, its illuminated windows embracing me in a warm glow of familiarity. It felt like the building had missed his presence, and he also felt like he had been gone for too long. As they ascended the grand staircase leading to the entrance, he looked at Miss Seraphina, gratitude shining in his eyes. "Thank you, Miss Seraphina," he said softly, his voice filled with appreciation. "For being my guiding light and always reminding me of who I am." Miss Seraphina smiled, her eyes sparkling with affection. "It is my honor and privilege, Master Mark," she replied, her voice brimming with warmth. "You are destined for greatness, and I am here to support you every step of the way." They entered the house while the driver parked the car in the garage. He was exhausted from the day at the office, and all he could think of was resting on his bed. He tossed his shoes lazily and hopped on his bed, taking every ounce of relaxation. He was going to rest before meeting his father in his study room, where he always found his relaxation. A few hours passed, and the alarm rang; he got up and quickly freshened up before meeting his father. The heavy wooden door creaked as he pushed it open, revealing his father's sanctuary. The study room, bathed in warm amber hues, embraced him with a feeling that he had been here before. Sunlight filtered through the ornate stained-glass windows, casting vibrant patterns on the Persian rug that sprawled across the polished hardwood floor. His eyes met his father's, piercing gaze filled with pride and concern. He sat behind his grand mahogany desk, strewn with stacks of paperwork that whispered of the empire he had built. He thought he was still trending alongside his rivals in business… His silvery hair, meticulously combed, added a touch of distinguished sophistication to his presence. He still looked younger than his age, as he always bragged about it. "Money makes a man healthy and live long." "Father," he began, his voice conveying nervousness and curiosity. "You asked to see me?" His gaze softened as he motioned for Mark to sit in the plush armchair opposite him. Mark sank into its embrace, feeling the smooth covering molding to the contours of his body. The scent of aged leather mingled with the faint aroma of his father's favorite cigars, creating an atmosphere both comforting and tinged with tension. "Mark," his father spoke, his voice deep and resonant. I have been observing the operations of the company, and doubts have crept into my mind regarding the current management's performance." His heart skipped a beat. The company, a legacy passed down through generations, was the culmination of his father's dedication and hard work. To hear his doubts about its management sent a ripple of unease through his core. He wanted to take his concerns of it as his father had raised his children to be independent. He wasn't interested in his company as he had his line of business that he embraced, New Orca. Leaning forward, Mark met his father's gaze, his eyes mirroring the concern on his face. "Tell me more, Father," Mark knew he wanted him to feel concerned about it, so he continued. Even though Mark wasn't interested, the least he could do was hear his father out. He sighed, his hands clasping together on the desk, the gold signet ring on his finger glinting in the sunlight. "Of all the businesses we run, the fashion industry bothers me the most." He paused. I fear that the company is not reaching its full potential," he confessed, his voice tinged with a hint of vulnerability. There have been whispers of mismanagement, declining employee morale, and a lack of innovation." The weight of his words settled upon Mark, and he swallowed hard, understanding the magnitude of the situation. But at the same time, he really hoped his father wasn't about to involve him in the mess. Mark knew that his father's decision to approach him meant he trusted his judgment and believed in his ability to make a difference. "I want you to assess the situation personally," he continued, his voice steady but filled with urgency. Can you do that for me?" Mark just knew he was going to involve him in the whole thing. He barely let out a smile: " Of course, father, anything to keep your worries away." His father smiled. "Thank you." Taking a deep breath, I met my father's gaze. "Father," he began, his voice quivering slightly. "I... I agree to your request. I will undertake this task because I love you and want to contribute to our family's legacy." These words seemed like they were forced out of his mouth. He loved his father but didn't want to get involved in his mess. Love always has a way of coming to the top of everything. A flicker of relief crossed his father's eyes, mingled with a hint of sadness. He reached across the desk, his hand gently covering Marks, a wordless expression of gratitude and understanding. As he left his father's study, his words echoed in Mark's mind, mingling with the scent of aged leather and the soft caress of the armchair against his skin. "So unbelievable," Mark felt it wasn't necessary if he went. He could quickly get the information he needed from anyone. Why him?