A Game With The Billionaire

Chapter 30:

Vivienne:

The whole stage is dazzling with lights, I guess this is a big moment because for the first time in two years, my elder brother also known as Old Master Hart has agreed to do a press conference and answer questions regarding the Hart group.

“How are we doing?” I ask the crew back stage, the reporters are already set, busting with questions to ask my brother. I even feel a bit clammy. “Where’s Mr. Hart?” I look around, pinning the woman with a clipboard with a very deep frown.

“Yes, we are getting to that.” She laughs nervously. “He’s here somewhere.”

Damn it, today is supposed to be important because Lucien is going to answer questions about the next heir to his group, the expansions, everything is supposed to be set.

My brother walks in, looking younger in his dark suit, his slightly gray hair combed to the back. He’s talking into the phone. “I don’t care what you did, just make it happen. I am not paying you so that you can laze around and complain.”

He sure does look scary whenever he’s talking into the phone. He sees me and waves, jaw tight. I wave back excitedly; he had said I should accompany him here.

“I have a press conference in five minutes, Charles. I don’t have time for this—” he clutches his chest hard, the phone rolling to the floor. Everything happens in a blur, my brother is falling to the floor, everyone backstage rushes to him including him.

“Call a damn ambulance!” Panic streams through every part of my body as I rush towards him, yelling that they should get out of my way. I crouch beside him, Lucien just collapsed and something clicks in me.

It must be the medications he has been taking; it must have caused him to collapse. The ambulance arrives fifteen minutes later and just like that, my brother is wheeled into the car and driven away to the hospital.

I am breathing heavily, tears gathering around my eyes. Of course I am meant to play the part of a worried younger sister, especially now that the whole atmosphere is gloomy.

One of Lucien’s assistants walks over to me backstage. “The majority of the Hart family has been informed and they are on the way to the hospital, but the press conference must go one. Old Master Hart already had the answer to all the questions in his iPad. You have to answer the questions upstage, Mrs. Hart.”

I calm my pounding heart, I know that Lucien was bound to collapse very soon but I never thought it would be today for damn’s sake. All I have to do is plaster on a concerned face and answer questions, just like that.

I collect the iPad from her and walk to the stage and the noise hits first. Cameras and lights flash in my face as I stand behind the podium, adjusting the microphone. The large screen behind me stretches the words: ‘Hart Group: A legacy of power. Built to endure.’

“Old Master Hart suffered a medical condition.” My tone is brief as I lay down the iPad. “He’s receiving medical attention right now. Out of respect for him and his doctors, we will not be discussing specifics. The answers to the questions that are to be asked tonight are with me, so let’s move at a pace we are all comfortable with.”

They all nod; a fiery red-haired woman raises her hand. This is going to be a long night. “The Hart Group has been around for many generations and it has grown into a global empire, what do you credit most for its success?”

I stare at the screen, blinking at the answer already written. “I will say discipline; vision without discipline is just ambition.”

They all write it down on their notepad, iPad, and laptops. Another hand is raised. “The Hart Group dominates tech, real estate, and control for one corporation. Some say that’s too much control for one corporation. Your response?”

“Control is a strong word. I prefer competence. We enter industries we understand, improve them and make them stronger.”

The questions keep on coming and I answer them with calmness. I can’t afford to slip in my words, we are live right now so all questions have to be answered the way my brother would have answered them.

“Which of your children/grandchildren do you want to be the next chairman of the Hart Group?”

I look at the screen, reading out each word. “I don’t choose successors by blood. I choose them by capability. The next chairman will be the one who earns it.” What the hell? How can my brother have written that? What if the next chairman doesn’t come from a Hart family? So he’s going to toss what our family built and hand it to a stranger?

My ears are ringing as I say. “Two more questions and that’s all for today.”

“Why does Mr. Jeremy Hart not want to join the Hart Group division? Or does the Hart family not support his gaming company?” A blonde haired woman who’s no less than twenty-five asks with a sinister smile. She caught me there. I scroll the screen, not finding the answer to her question. Oh great, Lucien, she just had to and sprung that one out on me.

“Yes, Mrs. Hart, we would be glad if you could shed more light on this.” the reporters start looking at me eagerly and I laugh hoarsely; I guess I have to answer this on my own.

“Jeremy is old enough to know what he wants and doesn’t want.” That’s the answer. No one is going to get any words out of my mouth. “Last question please.”

“Finally, what advice would you give to young entrepreneurs who look up to you?”

That’s much better. “Stop looking up to anyone. Build something so solid that others have no choice but to look at you.”

The lights as I walk backstage, the crew start surrounding me, giving me smiles and ‘well done, madam.’

Victor sights me and he begins walking towards me. “Ma’am, I think you should see this,” he stretches the iPad at me and presses ‘resume’ on the video. I stare at the scene of a restaurant where my son appears and straight out punches a man and then a woman goes ahead and slaps my son.

“What’s this?” I reply shakily, keeping my attention at a very stoic Victor.

He nods, jaw tight and says. “The video is circulating online. Apparently, Tristan slapped one of the Hawthorne’s son and the Hilton’s daughter slapped him, people are making assumptions online that they are both fighting for her,”

No way in hell. Why in the hell is Tristan going around punching people and receiving slaps? How dare he try and disgrace the Hart family? What if the Hawthorne family decides to press charges? Will my brother even trust Tristan to lead the Hart Group?

“Erase the video online, and send gifts to the Hawthorne family.” I say shakily. “Tell Tristan to report to me at home.”

“Is that all?” Victor asks, making me think. Now that my brother is hospitalized, they are going to ask questions, look at his meds, and perhaps see if something is wrong with it.

“Please change my brother’s meds. Have someone discreetly change it.” I tell Victor, who bows and leaves.

I am at home now, sitting on the sofa while nursing a bottle of scotch. I have to visit Lucien later tonight. My son, Tristan walks in, smiling.

“Hey, mom. Victor said you wanted to speak to—” I slap my son across the face very hard and he stares at me, stunned.

“Did you see that video online?! You punched someone and got slapped in return!” I shriek, feeling the anger rise in me.

“That’s not how it goes, mom.” Tristan rubs the nape of his neck. “Two slaps in a day, wow.”

“Stop it!” I yell. “I have let you play for so long, your reputation as a playboy is everywhere. It’s time to get serious with your life, put your head low and focus on your job in Jeremy’s company; I’ll try to convince Lucien to make you CEO of a company.”

“I don’t want any of this.” Tristan says, his voice hard. “I want to paint! I love art and I don’t want to be a CEO.”

“Shut up.” My chest heaves with so much pain. “This is all for your future, Tristan. Being an artist won’t take you anywhere. I am only looking out for you.”

“You think Caleb would want you to look after me like this?” Tristan yells back which makes me freeze in my steps. My hands start trembling and Tristan realizes this because he looks elsewhere.

“Don’t ever say his name. Ever.” I say, turning my back from him.

“He’s my brother.” Tristan sighs heavily behind me. “He’s your son.”

“Shut. Up!” I turn towards him, jabbing a finger at him. “Leave right now and go think about how you’re messing up your life.”

Tristan frowns at me, before leaving the room. I can’t deal with any of this right now. Not Tristan, not my brother, not anyone.

I slump on the chair, my shoulders quaking and before I realize it, I start to cry.