The Hated Millionaire Heir

First text

His profile picture a large M in Roman font, blue in color, she clicks the back arrow and down below his about, MASONS ENTERPRISE, again she scrolls down and views the block option, her finger louvers over for a second but scrolls back up eventually. In blue silk shirt, baggy light sweatpants, she cuddles her blanket close as she settles in for sleep. Her bed a six-by-six size, she was often a roller meaning where she slept wasn’t where she woke up, fortunately the bed was large enough and tonight she bodied herself at the center. Grabbing her pillow pulling it closer to her neck she rests her head as it sank, her white sheets were fresh from the laundry, her favorite brown blanket a big white teddy bear with black dots as eyes covered the center, she shivered her legs creating some slight heat before staring at her phone again. She turned to her left in a vertical figure her right shoulder facing the ceiling, her left hand shoved itself under her weight and clamped the motionless phone while her right reached for her right eye calmly rubbing it a few times. Switching on the phone via her thumb the bright light from the screen blinded her eyes for a brief second, with her index finger she scrolls down on the screen and slides the brightness regulating icon to minimum opening her eyes afterwards. More eye friendly she tucks herself and using her right hand as her stylus she keys in her passcode, “1,2,3,4”, she whispers. Unlocked, she scrolls up and the icons display themselves arranged in alphabetical order, she clicks the folder icon and the files present in the phone display in packages, “Memories, selfies, downloads.” She scrolls and rests at the “New folder” package. She clicks the package and the insides unveil, the loading figure a circle that hurriedly counted from zero to twenty, to seventy, and the inside showcased in hierarchical order, from new to old. “Ding!” the notification alerted, she pays a brief ignorance scrolling down her pictures, “Ding!” it alerted once more, pausing her current activity to give the nuisance its precious two seconds of attention, she scrolls up pulling down the notification bar. “New message from…”, hurriedly she clicked the message feeling guilty she ignored it the first time, on the top of her messengers on her phone she clicks the contact as the message opens up. There she settles, she reads the message, however she wanted a little playback before she could type back, scrolling up she reaches the beginning of the chats, the date right above the first chat, Thursday 12th June 2018.

They looked the same but they weren’t, whether she was using sorcery or a magic illusion trick it was too good, she even felt real, “So she’s your twin.” He affirmed. First encounter Abigail and Tony were introduced there was some weird connection, weird because Tony was trying to make sense of the twin whom he never met or heard of, and Abigail was trying to dodge by shooting arrows of her own. “So, Angel told me you own the Masons enterprise?” Abigail asked, “Yes my family does.” Tony answers, calm after the first greeting, he felt her soft hands and how difficult it was for him to let go, “I’m a journalist just like Angel.” Abigail chipped. Turning to Angel, she nods her head affirming to the statement given, Tony confident and normal enough to speak in his normal state changed his facial figure, he locked eyes with Abigail, a firm grin attached, his hands free now twisted inside his shoulders, his posture, back straight giving his business look his client respected. “I would like to ask some questions if its okay with you. I understand its not in your schedule but just five minutes please!” Abigail begged, her hand sized notebook and Liun pen in hand she flipped to her questions before he could allow. “Excuse you but we are not within my business relations. I was informed this was a friendly catch-up moment.” He turned to Angel, “I know but please five minutes. Listen to her and I promise we will catch up.” She affirmed. He breathed in his eyes shut, a second later he turned and opened up, “Fine five minutes.” He granted. “My last question, how do you manage to…” “Ring!”, his phone interrupted her interview, excusing himself he moved some steps to the long maize like tea grass and tucked his phone in his ear beginning with, “Mr. Tony here.”. “I am very sorry but we have to catch up with this some other time.” Tony apologized, “A meeting just got fixed and I have to be there.” He exclaimed tucking his phone in his pocket, “Angel will give you my number incase you need to continue this interview.” He relented, “Goodbye.” He bid, rushing to the parked taxis beside the park’s pedestrian tarmac he boarded a parked but still on taxi, slapping the driver’s seat rapidly portraying the urgency of the matter in hand the taxi zoomed away.

“Hello its Abigail.” She texted, “Hi Abigail nice to hear from you.” He texted back a minute later, “So when can we continue our interview?” she asked, before she clicked the send button she switched off her WIFI off then clicked, leaving the message in offline mode. “Sorry if it may seem inappropriate but can we have a meetup outside your office? I know I do not have the say to arrange how you work but as you know I am a journalist like my sister. My job also is more into technology and computers which is what Masons Enterprise is all about. So, I feel if we have this interview in a free less tense environment I can collect more honest and reliable information.” She concluded her text. Clicking the send icon, the message was in que like the previous in offline mode, switching her WIFI on the messages were sent and anxiously, worriedly, she awaited his reply. “The park tomorrow. 2 p.m.” he replied ten minutes later, “Thank you I will be there.” She replied, nine p.m. she thanked and there the conversation ended.

An hour after noon, she was early, there was no pin point location for the meetup just the ten-acre recreational landscape at large, so to pass the time she walked, walked and rested on the first bench she saw. “Here you go.” She spoke, crumbs in her hands she scattered them for the ducks to enjoy, mother duck and her ducklings gathered for the feast, “They are so adorable.” She whispered. Her intrusive thoughts echoed her to grab a duckling and hug it tight, to feel the fluffy feathers on her soft skin, however they didn’t warn her of mother duck commonly renown for her fierce over protection for her chicks, so if she doesn’t squeeze the duckling to death then mother duck will leave a mark on her. Past half an hour she grew thirsty, to quench her desire she rose and began the walk to the nearest shop for some cold water. Joining the busy crowd, baby rollers trolling on the stone plasters, teens glued to their phones bumping into fellow walkers, some minutes later she sought for an alternative, a rather childish option she ought to remise. “One vanilla.” She spoke, Mike conscious of the order opened his container and did his usual routine, grab the scooper, dip the scooper, unload the scooper and there you go, “Here you go miss.” He spoke back a cone in his hand. The white creamy top was well iced and the first lick affirmed it, smiling she walked away her cone in her left and her bag in her right, she took her steps slowly, enjoying he rice cream while glaring at the view. Shifting from the road to the grass, crushing some dried leaves on her walk, at a point she stopped, small bushes in groups some feet in front of her, the big pond past the bushes, she closed her eyes taking a lick from her cone, she breathed out and took another. “Abigail?” the voice asked, short from her meditation, she turned back and viewed the owner of the voice, “Yes hello Tony.” She greeted. Embarrassed she was caught off guard with her ice cream melting as she stood frozen, “Mind if we take a walk.” He addressed. Setting the pace, the two began conversing on the main topic, “So how many shipments do you manage?” she asked, “Well that depends…”, “How long do your servers take to process all that data?”, she interrupted, making it more of an interrogation Abigail was too hasty with the conversation giving continuous questions and much less time for Tony to answer each. “Let’s take a break shall we?” Tony excused, overwhelmed by the constant talk he craved his normal off the schedule ice cream, a brief minute of silence the two were at Mike’s ice cream cart. “Sup Baldy.” He teased, “We talked about this man.” Tony complained as the two chuckled, “The usual.” He ordered, Mike got into his scooping business whilst Tony turned to Abigail. “You buy your ice cream regularly here?” she asked, “Yes Baldy and I have history, don’t we?” he posed, Mike groaned in acceptance as they chuckled slightly. “I bought the ice cream from this guy. Its amazing.” She commented, “No better cart than Mike’s.” Tony praised, handing him his cone Mike took note, “For once you called me Mike.”, “Don’t get used to it Baldy.” Tony teased shattering his dim light. “Damn you son.” He cursed as the two, Tony and Abigail, walked away, “So where were we?” she asked reaching for her notebook, as she flipped some pages Tony was tired of the consistent business talk. “Look if you wanted to talk about this all day we could have met in the office why the park. Here people talk non business stuff.” He highlighted, “Lets change the topic okay.” He suggested taking a lick from his cone.

“Okay sir.” She apologized, sensing she had nagged Tony more than asking she felt her embarrassment cuddle her tight, “Let’s talk about you. How different are you from Angel?” he asked. Tony had dreams, despite their breakup he still had the feeling that somehow he could heal and glue the two back together. Unfortunately, her deeds had shambled his heart beyond repair and if they lived together he would relive that trauma every night, a nightmare he didn’t deserve, however there was an alternative. If he couldn’t get back with her, why not go for her twin, they have literally the same physical aspects exception for the skin complexion, they even had the same voice pitch, so he resolved if she couldn’t mend it maybe her twin can. Thus, that night when he replied to the text, he had his agenda, to talk her through, to tell her just how he felt, how he dreamed and why only she could be the main character of his fantasy, all this he could tell at no better place than the park. “… I hate fruice but adore reshew.” She finished, absent minded traumatized by her beauty, he pictured the nastiest of dreams, how irresistible she looked with less clothes on, how pinning her to the wall would be fulfilling, “Those are the things we differ with my sister so far.” She hinted. “Sorry I wasn’t listening.” He apologized, Abigail had spent the past ten minutes highlighting the differences she had with her sister, from food preferences to fashion taste, from her favorite football club to her worst type of drink, however her audience was unknowingly fantasizing the unnecessary to the point he couldn’t feel the melting scoop tinkle down to his wrist and drop by drop sugar the soil.

“I’m sorry I couldn’t help but enjoy your beauty.” He confessed, shy and blushing her cheeks turned red as she struggled to hide it folding her palm on her mouth giggling. “Can we sit?” he asked, the lady too shy after the mouth dropping comment nodded in approval, seated some steps later she was on the right of the bench while he was on the left in between was her handbag. For a brief five minutes, he poured out his heartfelt speech, unlocked the dam of emotions flow, praising her from head to toe, the lady was overwhelmed to the point she begged him to stop. However, she recalled, she had a sister, a twin sister, she was the woman who pathed her down this road, she was unsure if she still had room for Tony and was waiting for the right moment to come back to him, that if she agrees to engage in this behind her sister’s back she would drown in the sea of guilt for eternity. She couldn’t, “I can’t I have to go.” She excused herself, the catch already clear she wasn’t ready to throw her sister under the bus for her to get the gold, “Hey I’m sorry, please I am really! I am.” He apologized. Her wrist in his grip he stopped her leave, he begged for her to look back at him, “Think about it.” He whispered before releasing his grasp. Cinematically, the two went separate ways, the lady straight for the taxis while the lad stomped disappointedly on the dried leaves for another scoop of ice cream.

She lay there, glaring at the text, at the last text on the chats slide, the index blinking consistently, the keyboard displayed awaiting her thoughts flow, “Tomorrow the French restaurant.” He texted. It was striking three hours to midnight, she closed her eyes, she made a slight whisper and opened back, her fingers on the keyboard she began. In her head she knew it would be confrontation, it would be standing for her sister, it was being there for her when she wasn’t twenty years ago, but the other voice said otherwise. The alternative echoed the truth, the bitter truth, that she wanted him for herself, that she could make headlines as billionaire wife, she could do what her sister couldn’t, “Okay.” She texted. She replied; however, it was a tie, unknown which voice won, was it the loving sister or the selfish twin?