My Fiction Fix #01

Writing Idea #78: The Girl the Billionaire Adopted

CHAPTER 1

He stood there in a 2 million dollar suit with friends I could see from this distance on the muddy road, a footpath filled with rain compiled of dust, grime and excretions from any known organism who traipsed the roads at night. Those friends were high-tailed wealthy millionaires, Mykel Dario, Treyton Seven, and Enzo Kazimir. And Guards armed with a night's watch uniform were watching the paparazzi.

I blinked at the sight of Atlas Braylon. A modern American name suiting a modern and supposedly demure business, the oil manufacturing business was anything but that. Yet it made him wealthy enough to stand in parties like that and ignore the problems he should've upheld.

I walked in the rain for 5 hours after I got the address to a mansion on Alpha Levingston road, New York.

I liked the thunderstorms that clicked like the buzzing of strong Bees in my ears l the guards and dogs doing rounds around a big brown and black mansion weren't the easiest to dodge, but given the fact I had no scent on me and that it was dark, I used that to creep closer to the west side of the Alpha mansion. Gardens of red roses and overly treated plantlife tickled my nose before I stared up at the guard standing there in the corner of my eye.

I stared, my gaze never wavering before his gun pulled out and a light shined over me, he cursed, "Shit, girl. Rogers, we've got a girl here, I think she's a stray. Hey, kiddo. It's alright." He breathed out, looking shocked and stressed. I was picked up and pulled inside, that was shockingly easy.

"Get the maids, now." He ordered two guards on earpieces, and a face.

Treyton Seven, black eyes, black hair. He released his wine glass in the sink and jogged over with a look of concern, "Roger's, get me my kit now. You—give her to me. Girl, can you hear me? She's not much older than 9 or 10 years. Heart rate is lower than I need it to be. She's malnourished. Get the maids to bring up water. She's ice cold. Check vitals now." He muttered, picking me up before I was moved down a corridor.

"Treyton, what's going on...shit." Enzo's voice signalled out.

I was lowered down on a black towel with a cushion. An oxygen mask was placed over my lips while Treyton pulled a heart beat detector out and had me breathe in and out after pulling the mask off. The room was an elegant palace of a foyer and lounge. I looked around in a worried, confused, disorienting manner.

"How did you find her?" Atlas's voice tackled my ear drums, I glanced back around. The men he called 'friends'—they surrounded us. Treyton checked my vitals before a bowl of food moved in close. I took rabbit nibbles around the sandwiches with ham and egg. Salad and tomato, cheese and mayo. Delicious, strange flavours and colours.

"We can't very well take her to the closest orphanage. Roger's says his scanners showed this girl running from them a month ago. We don't know what she's been through. She needs rest and then we'll discuss it tomorrow." Treyton whispered to Enzo and Atlas. I blinked and stared at them.

"Get her a room, and a DNA sample. Perhaps we can find out just where she belongs." Mykel Dario spoke with a cold, naturally stoic tone. Like venom with a gravelly tinge. Three maids helped me. It wasn't like I was unaccustomed to it.

The night-gown they put me in was clearly one of the maids'. I felt the cold brush of air conditioned against my little arms while I wondered how long a DNA scan would take. He was rich enough to do it. To run it. To claim something he'd never believe was possible. I stood up from the bed, sliding down it before reaching for the silver handle on the door. I opened it slowly and peeled out of the room. Following the large white corridors down to the stairs that twirled down to the first floor, I gripped the metal rods going down and onto the first floor.