PRESENT DAY
ANDRE DAWSON
"What do you mean?", I barked at the idiot in front of me. He shifted in his seat and gave me a devilish grin.
"Dude, I mean if you could stop seeing the governor's daughter, then all this wouldn't be happening," Michael said with a sly smile.
"We've only seen each other five times. And we spent one night together - which was clearly a mistake." I chugged the rest of my whiskey, frustration burning in my chest. "You know how crazy she is. You don't actually think I want anything serious with her."
"But the media says otherwise," he said, pulling out his phone. "'Andre Dawson, CEO of Dawson Enterprises, seen getting cozy with Governor Stone's daughter, Bianka.'"
"Ugh, we weren't even holding hands. That picture was clearly photoshopped." I frowned, reaching for the telephone.
"Samantha," I said, tone sharp. "I don't care how you do it - I want that news about me and the governor's daughter taken down by the end of the day."
"Killjoy," Michael laughed. "You really should learn to be nicer to people. All you ever do is hurt everyone who comes your way."
"I've never intentionally hurt anyone-"
"I was talking about your ex-wife, dummy."
"...Hmm."
I sighed, the weight of old memories pulling me down. I had used Sandra - that much I couldn't deny. Back when my father was still alive, I lived recklessly, basking in luxury, throwing money at parties, women, and nights I could barely remember.
When I heard my father was ill, I took a break to visit him - only to discover he had lymphoma. His treatments had been stopped.
The news shattered me. All the money in the world couldn't fix that.
I spent the final three months at his side. The strong, charismatic man I had always admired had become a shadow - lean, weak, and heartbreakingly fragile.
"Andre... I'm glad you're here with me," he coughed weakly.
"Where else would he be?" my mother replied, handing a teacup to one of the maids.
"There's something you must know. Your accounts and assets - they've been frozen."
"I'm aware," I said quietly.
"My brother... he's on his way-"
"Your bro-?"
"Listen." He struggled to speak. "My brother - your uncle - is not who he pretends to be. He's been trying to take the company for years. He bribed members of the board. They want to remove you. But I won't let that happen. Tony will help you."
An older man stepped into the room.
"Good day, Mr. Dawson. I'm Tony - your father's lawyer and a close friend."
"Nice to meet you," I said as we shook hands.
"The pleasure is mine," he replied, sitting down by my father's bedside and handing me a folder. "According to the board, they see you as unfit to lead - due to your reputation and behavior."
"I assure you, I'm more than capable of taking over as CEO," I said, clearing my throat.
"We believe you. But they don't," my father said with a faint smile.
"So what does he have to do to convince them he's capable of running his father's company?" my mother asked.
Tony looked at the papers. "According to the agreement, the only way Andre can become eligible to take over is... if he gets married."
"What?!"
"See?" my father chuckled weakly. "They knew you'd never agree to that - which is why they included it."
"Richard?"
"Dad? Are you okay?" I panicked as I watched him struggle to breathe.
"ANDRE!"
Michael's voice snapped me back to the present.
"You spaced out again."
"You didn't have to yell like that. Anyone could hear your stupid voice from miles away," I sneered.
"Were you thinking of her?"
"No. I was remembering the last moment I had with my father," I said, frowning.
"Mr. Dawson was a good man. He didn't deserve to die," Michael said softly. "My dad still talks about him."
I smiled faintly, recalling the day Tony introduced me to Michael - his son. That day, I didn't just gain a friend; I gained a brother.
"I bet he's in a better place," Michael said.
"That's what I hope." I sat back down in my chair.
"It seems we might lose that contract," Michael said. "We're talking about a huge amount of money—it would be a disaster if we lost it."
I glared at him and scoffed. Money has never been an issue for me. I own seven penthouses across different countries, several five-star hotels renowned for their luxury, ten cars—including three sports cars—and two private jets. What more could I possibly need from some stupid contract?
I turned to Michael and replied coolly, "Forget the contract."
"Oh, come on," he protested.
"Can't you see? Alfred wants us as partners just so he can throw his daughter at me," I sneered, frustration bubbling up.
Michael laughed. "Uh, when will you stop thinking everything is about you?"
I ignored him and continued with my work.
"Shouldn't you be home with your wife instead of bothering me?" I asked, nonchalantly.
"You know she's with her family," he replied. "Besides, I came here to spend some time with you."
"Hmm."
"Andre, when was the last time you heard from her?"
"Who?" I played dumb.
"You know who I'm talking about," he pressed. "Ever since your divorce six years ago, you've been thinking about her—dreaming about her."
"Look," I snapped, glaring at him. "If you've got nothing important to say, then get out of my office."
"I'm not going anywhere!" he thundered. "You don't get to shut me out again. I'm your best friend. You think I don't know about the pills you've been taking?"
"They're just antidepressants."
"All I'm saying is, Sandra didn't deserve what happened."
"Enough!" I barked. "I never hurt Sandra in any way. She brought it on herself. A deal is a deal. She was supposed to be my wife for a year—no strings attached. But she ruined it. So how is that my fault?"
"Then why didn't you defend her?" he challenged. "Why didn't you speak up online, tell people she wasn't what they claimed, that the divorce was mutual and peaceful?"
"Technically, that would've been a lie," I scoffed. "The marriage was just a contractual arrangement. What else was I supposed to say?"
Just then, my phone rang. I pressed the button.
"Mr. Damien Dawson is here to see you, sir," came Samantha's voice.
Michael and I exchanged a knowing look and nodded.
"Let him in."