The Billionaire's Secret Legacy

For the umpteenth time, Dora has been going around the office, she finally stops and crashes into the cushion chair. The door was slightly opened and a woman walked briskly. “Mr George finally agreed to meet you.” She announced, holding some files to chest as she adjusted her glasses. Dora jumped up and chimed, “George Hoover agreed? Really? When?” The woman who had PA tagged on her chest, she adjusted her glasses for the third time in a minute. “Orel Hotel, floor 8, 3p.m today. That's all I got from his assistant.” The woman said, as she made a turn, she paused and said, “and don't be late ma, I heard Mr George doesn't tolerate lateness.” Dora gasped as she checked her wrist watch, it was fifteen minutes past two. She let out a sigh with ‘hotel?’ between her breath, as she grabbed her purse and hurried out. “Call me if you need anything.” The woman said, but Dora has already escaped the door. Dora couldn't wait any longer before she hopped on a cab and headed for the hotel that kept ringing in her head. Orel Hotel is the largest and fanciest hotel in the whole state of Chicago with eight storey building. Everyone knows the hotel belongs to none other than the billionaire Hoover family. Dora is just a country girl born in the state of Chicago. Since childhood, she has been aspiring to be great. After she lost her mother at eight, she moved to London with her aunt, Vivian, who struggled to raise and sponsor her education. After she graduated from the University College London (UCL), she moved back to Chicago to start her own business. Two years on her entrepreneur journey, her company is downsizing and the investors were set to take legal measures against her. So, she must find a way to revive her dying company. After a while, the cab stopped in front of a giant building with 'Orel Hotel’ well inscribed on the top right, she alighted, having paid the cabman right before they reached there. She glared at the building up down before she approached the guards standing at the entrance. “Hey gentlemen, I'm here to see…” She didn't get to finish her statement before one of the men cut in. “Miss Dora? You're welcome. The boss is waiting for you.” “He's waiting for me?” Dora said as she glanced at her wrist watch for confirmation of whether she's late. It is already five minutes past three, as she remembered what Bimbo told her about George's intolerance of lateness, her head ached. “Just how bad could it be, let's see.” She muttered as the guard led the way and she followed. It wasn't long before they got to the 8th floor through the elevator, and as soon as they got out of the elevator, they entered an empty lobby wide enough to be used as a town hall somewhere. “This way ma'am.” He said, as he led her towards a brown door, shining as if they just painted it. The cleaners there must be very ethical. The guard opens the door and stands aside, gesturing for her to enter. Dora glared at him skeptically before she stepped in. Dora was welcomed by a trail of smoke that made her almost choke instantly. The guard had already backed out and now she's left alone in the strange room scanning the dark room for any human figure. Then, the curtains moved away automatically, revealing a floor to ceiling window and the daylight lighting up the room immediately. Dora was shocked to see a man sitting just two feets away from her. The room is big and empty, with only a golden center table and two individual chairs across each other. “Sorry I'm late.” Dora said, getting more uncomfortable every second as the man won't stop puffing his pipe. “Are you late?” He said, his cold deep voice made Dora flinch at his word. “You came right on time, have your seat.” He said, crushing the pipe into the ash box. “Food or wine?” He said casually. “I don't want any…please Mr George, can we start to discuss why we're here already.” “Okay. I'll save your company, Dora,” he purred, “but only if you agree to marry me.” “I thought we were supposed to have a discussion here Mr. George.” Dora said, searching dark blue eyes for a clue. “There's nothing to discuss, Dora. I have an offer for you.” He paused and looked over Dora's shoulder as if eyeing someone. Then a sound of shoes came from behind her. Turned out they were three in the room but she never realized. “Here miss Dora.” His malevolent voice sounds strangely familiar. She looks him over from his arm to his face. “You?” A word escaped Dora's mouth before as she saw Manuel, her coursmate and admirer back in the university. But she was even more shocked that he shows no sign of surprise, he must have known I was going to be here. “Do you know her?” George faced Manuel. Manuel giggled and said, “Not at all, Miss Dora must've mistaken me for someone she knew.” Dora's heart jumped as if it was going to came out of her chest, she was going to say how helpful and supportive he used to be to her and thank him for those times when they were in school but since he denied her first, she couldn't help but keep quite. “There you go, go through it and let me know if you're comfortable it. I don't have much time left.” Dora scoffed, she knew whatever he was going to offer is not going to be her best interest, and a s matter of fact, of she's truly comfortable, she wouldn't have be in front him in the first place. “Must I do that here? Can't I take it and send it back or something.” “No way. If you're not that decisive why start a company? You can call whoever you want to call I'll give you one last chance or I'll change my mind..” “Okay with the insult. He's too full of himself.” Dora scoffed. “You say what?” “Never mind.” After going through the documents, she put her signature at the necessary spaces and give it back to Manuel. “I never thought you were this cheap Dora. You don't live to any expectations I had of you. Anyway, meet me at the registry 9a.m tomorrow to get our marriage certificate.” “And if you have any question, ask him.” George said, gesturing at Manuel before he walked out. She scoffed and muttered under her breathe, ‘what an asshole, how dare you insult me when you gave me no chance.”