THE BILLIONAIRE HEIR: His ex-girlfriend begged him

Chapter 6: Long time no see.

Harry stepped out of the sleek black Mercedes, his posture calm yet commanding. The Sea Pavilion, with its grand facade and glittering lights, loomed before him, exuding an aura of exclusivity. As he walked through the entrance with Richard by his side, the staff's reactions were immediate and palpable. Whispers spread among the guests and employees, their eyes widening in surprise as they observed the deference with which Richard treated him.

The lobby manager, a sharp-eyed woman in her forties, hurried forward. “Good evening, Mr. Winstone, Mr. Dalton,” she greeted, her voice tinged with a mix of curiosity and respect.

“Evening,” Richard replied curtly, nodding in acknowledgment. “We’re here for the dinner in the presidential dining room.”

“Of course, sir. Everything has been prepared to your specifications,” she said, casting a subtle glance at Harry, clearly trying to piece together his identity. “If you would follow me, please.”

As they made their way through the opulent halls, heads turned, and murmurs grew louder. Harry could feel the weight of the stares, but he kept his expression neutral, his gaze forward. Richard leaned in slightly. “Quite the impression you’re making,” he murmured with a hint of amusement.

“I’m just here for dinner,” Harry replied softly, his eyes scanning the ornate decor as they ascended the marble staircase to the private dining area. “And to understand what all this means.”

They reached the entrance of the presidential dining room, where two sharply dressed waiters stood by. The moment they opened the grand double doors, a wave of respectful silence swept through the room. The most powerful individuals in London, men and women whose names were synonymous with influence and wealth, rose from their seats to greet Harry with nods and murmured salutations.

“Welcome, Mr. Winstone,” one of them said, his voice laced with an almost reverent tone.

Harry nodded politely, feeling a strange mix of discomfort and curiosity. As he moved further into the room, Richard gestured to the head of the table and pulled out the chair, a small but significant gesture that did not go unnoticed by the attendees.

“Please, have a seat,” Richard said, his voice loud enough for everyone to hear.

Harry sat down, trying to mask his unease with a calm demeanor. The waitstaff immediately began to serve the first course, their movements precise and graceful.

“I’m not a picky eater,” Harry remarked quietly to Richard, glancing at the array of dishes being set before him.

“I know,” Richard replied with a small smile. “But tonight is special. You’re the guest of honor, and this is just a small way of showing respect.”

As the food was served, Richard began introducing the attendees to Harry, one by one. “That’s Edward Manning, head of Manning Industries,” he said, nodding towards a silver-haired gentleman with a sharp gaze. “And over there is Margaret Hargrove, one of the city’s top real estate moguls.”

Harry greeted them politely, his mind racing as he realized the sheer power that sat around the table. Seven out of the ten wealthiest individuals in London, all part of his extended family or business network. The reality of his position began to sink in, the magnitude of his inheritance weighing heavily on his shoulders.

He took a deep breath, reminding himself to stay grounded. “It’s a pleasure to meet you all,” he said, his voice steady. “I’m still getting used to all this, but I hope we can work together.”

A murmur of agreement spread around the table, and the tension seemed to ease slightly. As the conversation turned to business and the state of the economy, Harry listened attentively, occasionally asking questions that revealed his sharp intellect.

Despite the luxurious surroundings and the elite company, Harry’s thoughts kept drifting back to Celia. He turned to one of the waiters nearby. “Could you please pack some of these dishes for takeaway?” he asked gently. “Something light, for my foster mother. She’s recovering in the hospital.”

The waiter blinked, clearly taken aback by the request. “Of course, sir. I’ll have it prepared right away.”

Richard watched with a smile of approval. “You’re a good man, Harry. It’s not often we see someone in this position who thinks of others first.”

Harry shrugged slightly, his gaze distant. “I just want her to be comfortable. She’s done so much for me.”

The waitstaff continued to serve, their demeanor respectful and professional. The other diners watched in curiosity, clearly intrigued by this young man who, despite his newfound status, showed such humility and concern.

After a few more bites, Harry excused himself, pushing back his chair. “If you’ll excuse me for a moment, I need to use the washroom.”

Richard made a move to stand as well, but Harry shook his head with a faint smile. “It’s fine, Richard. I can find my way.”

As he made his way down the corridor, the dim lighting and the soft hum of conversation provided a strange sense of calm. It was surreal, being in a place so far removed from the life he had known just days ago.

“Harry?” A familiar voice, soft yet full of surprise, broke the silence. He turned, his eyes widening as he saw Lily Turner standing a few steps away, a tray of dishes in her hands.

“Lily?” He couldn’t help the smile that spread across his face. “What are you doing here?”

Lily set the tray down on a nearby table, her eyes bright with recognition and warmth. “I could ask you the same thing. But I guess it’s obvious you’re here for dinner.” She gestured to his attire, her smile widening.

Harry chuckled. “It’s good to see you. It’s been... what, three years?”

“Three years, yeah,” she agreed, her gaze sweeping over him. “You look... different. I almost didn’t recognize you.”

He shrugged, the familiar gesture making her laugh. “A lot has changed.”

“I can see that,” she said softly, a hint of curiosity in her eyes. “You’re here with...?”

“Richard Dalton,” Harry replied. “Long story, but... let’s just say life’s taken a very unexpected turn.”

Lily raised an eyebrow. “Must be quite a story. You’ll have to tell me sometime.”

Harry nodded, his expression softening. “I’d like that.”

They stood there for a moment, a comfortable silence settling between them, filled with the unspoken understanding of old friends who had seen each other through difficult times.

“I’m glad you’re doing well, Harry,” Lily said finally, her voice sincere. “You deserve it.”

“Thank you,” he replied, his tone equally genuine. “And I hope you’re doing well too.”

She smiled, her eyes sparkling. “I am. Working here is... different, but it’s good.”

They chatted a bit longer, sharing memories and laughs, until a waiter approached with a discreet cough. “Mr. Winstone, your presence is requested back in the dining room.”

Harry nodded, glancing back at Lily with a smile. “I should get back.”

“Of course,” she said, her smile tinged with a hint of wistfulness. “But don’t be a stranger, okay?”

“I won’t,” he promised, and with one last look, he turned and headed back to the dining room.

As he walked down the corridor, his mind replayed their conversation. Seeing Lily again had reminded him of where he’d come from and the struggles he had endured. It was grounding, a reminder that despite the opulence and power that now surrounded him, he was still Harry, the boy who had once scraped by with nothing but his determination and the support of people like Celia and Lily.

He re-entered the dining room, his resolve firm and his mind clear. He would embrace his new role, but he would never forget his past or the people who had been there for him when he had nothing. And with that thought, he took his seat at the head of the table, ready to face whatever came next.