Chapter - 1 : The Beginning

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Le Bristol, PARIS

I was snoring peacefully. The soft Birch Mattress was certainly acting as a catalyst to my REM sleep, making me see all kinds of fantasies in my dreams.

Of course, I had long ago fulfilled any fantasy of mine, whether stupid or interesting. Money makes things, y'know.

And that's when I got the freaking phone call.

It was my father's favourite butler, Arnold. I answered the call after some time. To say the truth, I didn't even want to answer the call. "What's the matter, Arno? I rarely get any calls from the manor, so this must be some serious shit. Tell me.", I said.

"Master Louis, Master Tomlinson is....h-he i-is...no more.", he said, his normally jovial voice shaking with emotion.

"So, the old man's dead?", I asked him, momentarily stunned. I just didn't give a damn whether the man was alive or dead, but I cared for Mom. She would probably be broken by now.

"Okay, Arno. Don't worry. I'll be there. Just inform Mom, okay? I'll be there in a day.", I consoled the old man, who was quietly sobbing. He was quite attached to my father, and probably couldn't accept it when he died.

I phoned up my personal airplane's pilot, "John, get the airplane ready. I will be there in a few."

I put on my coat and grabbed my car keys. I speed walked through the lobby, and walked all the way to the parking lot. Normally, I would've sent one of the servants in the hotel to get the car, but today was urgent.

I hopped into the Lamborghini, and fired up the engine. After revving the powerful V12 engine, I raced out into the streets towards the airport.

My mind was running a thousand thoughts per second in my mind. The old man was fine, dammit. Then why the actual frick did that man die? Well, let's see when we get there; I thought.

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I was sipping on my champagne, deeply in thought. John had just announced that the plane would touchdown in another hour's time.

I was slowly slipping into sleep, my mind fixed on those horrible thoughts. And a horrible dream I had.

I was walking through the long hallways of the Tomlinson Manor. My parents had just praised me that I was such a fast learner, and had learned to talk so many sentences in just a year's time.

I was pumped up in pride, and was walking around the entire house showcasing my skills to Arnold and all the other servants around me (Of course I was a 3 year old at that time).

I spied at a new hallway completely leading into a different direction from the way I was walking.

Let's try this way too, I thought. I began to walk with slow and methodical steps, just like the way they taught me. I heard some voices behind closed oak doors near to me.

Being an inquisitive little kid at that time, I didn't know about the rules and the etiquette of not eavesdropping on other people's conversations.

I placed my ears on the door, and strained to hear the voices on the other side of the door.

And then came those words which would haunt me for the rest of my life.

"This empire, this criminal empire that I have painstakingly held together, will be inherited by Louis. I will talk to him about it when he comes to an age wherein he can understand me. But not now."

I woke up, heavily breathing. The plane had landed and John was waiting for me to get down.

That was why I never touched a penny from my father. I learned hard, worked hard and became a millionaire in my own right. I didn't want to become head of a criminal mafia, even if that was what the family name was associated with. I never talked to him in a natural way, friendly or anything after that incident. "Master Louis, the car is waiting.", John called out softly. I walked out onto the tarmac and got into the Bentley waiting near the plane

The Continental Supersports was leisurely moving through the midday traffic of L.A., and I didn't mind the snail's pace at which the car was moving. Must talk to Mom, I thought.

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

The car finally parked in the underground parking space of the Manor, and I got out, fidgeting nervously. As I moved along the hallways which was always filled with the sounds of laughter and voices, I noticed that those sounds were nowhere to be found.

It was like I almost walked into a vacuum.

John guided me to my mom's room, and then politely retreated. I walked into Mom's room, afraid of her condition.

She had cried. A lot. Her eyes were red and puffy, and her handkerchief was wet to the core. She came running to me, "Oh, Louis! He's gone!", were the only things she could say before melting into another pool of sobs.

"What about Avery?", I asked her in a comforting voice. "She's returning from her private island. She said that she would be here in a couple of hours.", Mom said.

Steeling myself for the worst question, I asked, "Where's Father now?"

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

The Tomlinsons' living room was draped in the darkest hues of black. The glass coffin was placed on a wooden pedestal brought in specifically for holding the coffin.

People offered condolences to me, but I was numbed for a few minutes. An old memory surfaced.

Dad's hair was greying. But I didn't care. I was a rebellious man of 20 years, and rarely listened to his advice.

I had started my own IT company, with the basis of a groundbreaking invention of a new AI. The company was slowly in the ascent, and it flourished. I was proud that I could stand on my own legs after all, without Father's monetary expenses. Mom was proud, but I didn't see any kind of appreciation or anything from Father.

Well, fine. I just didn't give a shit if he congratulates me or not.

One rainy Sunday, I was sitting in front of one of the large windows, admiring the rain and taking in the fresh smell of the monsoon. Father came up behind me, and sat in one of the chairs.

"Louis, I know that you dislike talking to me. Heck, you don't even want to see your old man's face. But...", he stopped for a few moments.

"But?", I raised my eyebrows.

Father regained his normal composure after a few moments.

"But one day, the living room will be draped in black, and I will be inside a glass coffin. What will you do when old Mark isn't around anymore?", he asked.

I didn't know the answer then. I still don't.

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