Marrying the Secret Billionaire

Pushing through

Archie’s POV:

“She’s okay. Not the head turner type, but she’s okay.” I muttered.

I am not crazy talking to myself. My best friend, Theo, who is an id*ot for not clearing his schedule, is currently halfway across the globe now. He’s on the phone, and I am making the call via a small headpiece lodged in my left ear.

After talking to the preacher, I took the opportunity to get a hold of him because I promised him I’d call him as soon as I saw my wife-to-be. Before I went to church, we had a bet. That if I do not like what I see, I’d bail. I can deal with my father’s wrath later. It’s not like he hasn’t punished me enough growing up.

Theo was pleased to know that Prim, short for Primrose Smith, passed the initial assessment. He is one of the very few people who know my taste when it comes to women. I have a checklist, but this time, I have to toss that aside and settle for the fact that she’s okay.

[Remind me again why you agreed with your father’s idea.]

“Dad wanted me to join the ranks of the married men in the family.”

Theo chuckles at the other end of the line. [You know he’s got a point. Your brothers haven’t given him what he wanted all these years, and he’s not getting any younger.]

I smirked, “and how is that my problem, Theo?”

[Well, and you are not getting any younger either. ]

“And how is that my problem too?”

[Come on, Archie. You are named after him for a reason.]

That’s right, I am named after my father. Archibald Rothschild Jr. Funny enough, I was Archibald Wright all my life until some suited men arrived at our two-bedroom dingy apartment some fifteen years ago and revealed to me that I am one of the renowned Financing Mogul’s sons. At first, I thought I was in a reality show and cameras would pop out of nowhere, but instead, my mother, who was then battling stage 4 cancer, told me that I was not mistaken and that I shouldn’t be worried about life after her passing.

Mom died shortly after and my life was never the same again. To me, it was her way of still taking care of me, and if that is not love, I don’t know what that is. Mother's love is unsurpassed, forever and incomparable.

I have two older brothers and a younger sister, and they’ve embraced me wholeheartedly. Which was my first dilemma. I did not expect that from them. As it turns out, our father had told them about me and how he searched high and low for me and my mother. Their late mother also knows about me.

That part I could no longer rectify if true. My mother died without letting me know the details of why she ended up supporting me alone, even if she knew my father practically sleeps in a bed made out of money.

Until I turned eighteen, and I was inducted to the ‘other family’ business, it became clear to me why my mother chose to leave my father despite the comfort in life he had to offer.

And now, I run that sh*t.

To this day, in the elite’s inner circle, I am still known as my father’s bastard. But that’s okay. I prefer to use my mother’s name as a nod to her sacrifice in raising me up by herself. They assume that because I was never involved with the family business. For a good reason. I run a bigger company. One that’s not in public but amasses greater revenue than what the other family businesses do combined. Also, using her last name allows me to move normally. My siblings grew up away from the public eye for their safety. The super rich, the one percent of society, does not like being in the limelight. They like privacy, but the paparazzi make way. And two or three photos a month pops up.

In my case, though my birth certificate and ID’s show that I am legally a Rothschild, I prefer to use Archibald Wright. Archie for short.

However, none of my elder brothers, who were happily married for years now, have never managed to give my father a grandchild. And in the Rothschild family----not having an heir to continue the family legacy is trouble. Our last name is a legacy meant to live up over time. A male grandson is preferred.

Arthur and Anthony dragged me out of bed one night and asked me to do whatever father would ask me, regardless of what it was. I was groggy and had some beers prior, so I said yes. If there’s anything that we value in the family; it’s our word. Once we’ve said it-----it’s good as done.

The following day, my marriage was announced during a family dinner and my brothers reminded me of our little conversation beforehand and all I could say was a f*cking ‘yes’. Besides, Isabel is too young to settle down. She’s fifteen, and I doubt if anyone would be good enough for our father and for us her brothers.

“Archie,” the preacher walked towards me, “it’s time.”

“Alright.” I sighed and tightened my tie. Let’s do this.

Nora, came running to me. A worried smile on her face. I don’t like her. “Um, aren’t your siblings coming?”

“No.”

“How about your father?”

“Why does it matter?”

“Well,” she sheepishly grins at me. “You know, we haven’t spoken to him personally…we just want to…”

“Thank him? Not happening. My father will show up if he wants to. The same goes for my siblings. Besides, this is not a grand wedding.” I smirked at her, recalling how she called me my father’s bastard. I would remind her of the agreement. “This is your payment for your debts. Right?”

The woman hangs her head low. But she doesn’t take a hint. Because she regained her composure and gave me the most pathetic suggestion I have ever encountered. “Archie, if I may? Since the wedding hasn’t officially started, and you’ve also pointed out that this is payment for our debts, may I offer a swap?”

Years of handling business have taught me the tricks of the trade. This one shows the face of someone who seeks better opportunities upon seeing the goods. I decided to give her more time to shuffle her cards.

“Interesting, what do you have in mind?”

“My other daughter wants to take Prim’s place.” She stated confidently.

A chuckle of amusement escaped me. I could not help it, but there are really mothers like Nora. And it irks me. Now, I want to know why she came up with the idea after all the fuss with Prim.

She continues, with eyes not leaving mine. “You see, it was Diana who was supposed to marry you but…”

“She likes someone else,” my eyes darted at the sister who was sitting not far away with the boyfriend who couldn’t seem to get his eyes off my bride. Something does not add up.

“Yes, yes. You can say that. Besides, Prim…” she whispers, “she’s got a four-year-old son. I assume you would not want to marry someone with excess baggage.”

“Why wouldn’t I?”

“I figured you’d want someone more sophisticated, more beautiful…”

I’ve had enough. The first thing that I am going to do after this wedding is to get rid of the parents. I don’t have to ask her if they’re a pain in the a**. They really are. I could not imagine her having to deal with parents like them.

“Prim will do.” I said with finality as I took my place at the altar, waiting for her.