The Billionaire's Broken Memory

Chapter Three:The Billionaire's Heir

The bass from the speakers pounded so hard that the floor felt alive beneath Andrew Parker’s shoes.

Crystal glasses clinked, laughter echoed, and perfume mixed with the thick smell of whiskey and cigars.

It was another night, another party, another meaningless celebration thrown in the name of luxury.

Andrew leaned back in his chair, a lazy smirk playing on his lips as a group of women hovered nearby, their eyes hungry for attention.

He was used to it.

He was born into money, into power, into a world where his name opened doors and his arrogance kept them shut for everyone else.

“Andy, my man!” Gary called out over the music, staggering toward him with a bottle in hand. “You’re too quiet tonight. Don’t tell me you’re actually getting bored of your own parties?”

Andrew laughed softly. “When you’ve seen the same faces and heard the same fake laughter for years, Gary, it gets boring faster than you think.”

Gary dropped onto the chair beside him, grinning. “Boring? Please. You’ve got half the city’s models dying to be in your bed. Boredom isn’t your problem. You just haven’t picked one yet.”

Andrew reached for his glass, swirling the amber liquid slowly. “I don’t need to pick one. They all come eventually.”

Gary laughed. “Cold as always. You ever gonna fall in love, man?”

Andrew turned his head, giving him a look that could cut glass. “Love is for people who can’t afford distraction. I’m fine without it.”

Gary raised his bottle. “To distraction, then.”

They drank.

All around them, the club throbbed with energy. Lights flashed, music rose, and a group of men in designer suits laughed loudly near the VIP lounge. Andrew had known them all his life — the sons of politicians, business moguls, and oil tycoons. They were the untouchables of Lagos, and he was their crown prince.

But beneath the noise, something in him felt hollow.

He couldn’t remember the last time he had laughed genuinely, or felt anything real. Every night blurred into another, every woman into another face he’d forget by morning.

His mother’s voice echoed faintly in his head, sharp and commanding.

“Remember, Andrew, emotions are weaknesses. You’re a Parker. Parkers don’t fall; they control.”

He finished his drink and poured another, trying to drown the echo.

Gary leaned close, shouting above the music. “You remember that new girl Tessy brought around? The one from the suburbs?”

Andrew frowned. “No. What about her?”

“She’s new,” Gary said with a grin. “Looks innocent. She’s desperate for cash. I thought of having a little fun tonight.”

Andrew gave a short laugh. “Still collecting broken birds, Gary?”

Gary shrugged. “They come to me willingly. You know how it goes.”

Andrew stood, stretching lazily. “Whatever keeps you entertained. I’m heading out. Too loud in here.”

Gary grabbed his arm. “Hold on, man. Let me finish this drink, then we’ll go together. I got something lined up at The Grand Suites. You might enjoy it.”

Andrew smirked. “You’re unbelievable.”

Gary winked. “You’ll thank me later.”

By the time they reached The Grand Suites, it was close to midnight.

The hotel sparkled under the night sky — expensive cars parked neatly outside, soft piano music playing in the lobby. The manager nearly bowed when he saw Andrew walk in.

“Mr. Parker. It’s an honor.”

Andrew ignored the greeting, heading straight for the bar. Gary, already tipsy, stumbled behind him.

“You really should loosen up, brother,” Gary slurred. “One night of fun won’t kill you.”

Andrew sipped his drink without answering. He was used to Gary’s talk — endless, foolish, and soaked in whiskey.

A few minutes later, Gary’s phone buzzed. He glanced at it and grinned. “Ah. She’s here already. Room 407. You should see her, man. She’s got that shy look that makes it even better.”