THE DISCARDED TRILLIONAIRE AND DAUGHTER

The master is home!

Beep. beep. beep...

The continuous beeping sound rippled though the otherwise quiet room. The wall was painted white, the temperature cool and cozy, making the ambience a mix of wealth, and a room of survival.

At the corner of the room is a bed with a man laid face up, seemingly unconscious in a white hospital wear. An IV tube snaked to his arm, passing in blood into his body. His right leg was wrapped with a bandage. Clean and professional.

Amos Voss.

Amos' finger twitched at the side, then his eyes gently fluttered open. He squeezed his eyes shut against the harsh ray of the roof light.

Again, he opened his eyes, recovering his sight to see a white roof. The smell of antiseptic hit his nose, sharp.

His eyes narrowed in confusion.

This...

The roof was too clean to belong to Bobo flex cramped apartment. Was this heaven?

And the smell in the air was sharp sterile. It wasn't the usual smell of dust and smoke.

"Where am I?" He mumbled, his thoughts spiralling.

Amos pushed himself up from the bed with sheer effort, looking around the strange room to make sense of his whereabouts.

Suddenly, he pressed his finger against his temple as though a migraine was tearing through his head.

He attempted to move his leg, but pain shot through the right, making him submit. He looked down to the leg to see the bandage wrap.

His mind spun to the event of the previous night.

"Rose," He rasped. Fear mixed dread, as everything that happened last night flooded his memory in waves; Bobo Flex evacuation, the two masked men, the gun shot.....Rose was taken.

The white bed sheet shuffled off his body as he pushed himself off with a new found energy to move out to look for Rose.

At that moment, the door of the room gilded open and a mature man in white lab cloth walked in. A stethoscope snaked around his neck.

He walked in gently, his presence filling the room with an aura of confidence and professionalism. Behind him flanked two nurses in fitted crisp white uniforms that looked like they were poured over them. Each of them held a tray harbouring medial accessories. They escorted the doctor in with silent, almost precaution steps.

Immediately the doctor saw Amos, his eyes widened in surprise, something close to fear or reverence flashing in his eyes. His confidence crumbled instantly, his hand pressed in front as he gave a bow.

"Master Voss," He said. The two nurses followed his gesture as though it was their cue.

Amos paused in shock, leaning one hand against the iron frame to hold his balance.

His eyes darted between the strange people in his front, wondering where the heck they're from.

"What is going on here," Amos asked, his eyes flickering between them. "Who are you people? And where is my daughter?!"

The trio on the floor didn't dare raise their heads— Like students afraid to look their master in the eye This was respect. One that didn't ask but demands.

"If you'll give us the permission to raise our head, Master Voss, I'll explain everything." The doctor said, his voice carrying the sheer weight of reverence that deepened Amos confusion.

His eyes narrowed. "What the heck are you talking about? Why are you speaking like that? Permission? I never asked you to bow," Amos forced himself to stand straighter. "Where is my daughter?! That's all I asked."

The doctor, Sensing Amos's confusion, lifted his head now, a gentle smile tugging at the corner of his lips as though he was hiding the excessive happiness of seeing him. He stood with hands pressed in his front, trembling slightly due to Amos' presence.

"Master Voss," The doctor started gently, tilting his head gently in respect. "Someone like me doesn't have the permission to speak with you, unless Ms. Maggie is here, Sir."

Amos wasn't having all of this anymore. The whereabouts of his daughter matters more than all of the strange acts they were displaying. His patience snapped completely. "And who the heck is Maggie! I told you I want to see my daughter!"

He took one step, but his knee buckled to fall him to the ground. But the doctor was fast enough to hold him.

"Master," He said in concern. "I think you still need a lot of rest. The injury has to heal before you walk around with the leg to avoid complications."

The doctor turned to one nurse quickly. "Go call Ms. Maggie Now!"

"Tell her the master is awake!"

Meanwhile, back at stellar entertainment, Director Jack seated on his executive leather, his suit dropped on the back rest. He leaned back, seemingly worried as he rocked the chair, tapping his finger against the armrest.

His phone buzzed loudly. He quickly snatched it from the desk, pressing the phone to his ear. "Lead him into my office. Right away!" He clipped and dropped the call, exhaling in relief.

Almost immediately he dropped the call, the door opened to reveal Kyra, his smart assistance. She clad a crisp charcoal suit and fitted pants, looking both professional and drop-dead gorgeous. Behind her, an imposing figure trailed.

"Here he is sir." Kyra stepped to the side.

Director Jack leaned backward, eyes locked on the man. "Leave us." He clipped, quietly accessing the man while Kyra bowed gently and walked out.

He was tall, his face smooth as oil, but his fair complexion was blended into dark due to hours of hurling crates in the sun. Yet, his handsomeness is the kind that demands attention even though his clothes look ordinary and plain.

The director nodded with a satisfactory grin. "Just what I wanted." He muttered in delight.

He gestured at a seat. "Have your seat."

"Thank you, Sir." The newcomer sat in his front, the desk a demarcation of deal and price.

Director Jack glanced into a white sheet on the table, nodding his head as he skimmed through the bio data which he had been looking before his entrance.

"Benjamin, Right?" His gaze flicked to him.

" Yes, Sir." The man said, and pressed on eagerly as he sat straighter. "I can handle the job, Sir. You can trust me."

The director leaned back, swirling gently on the swivel chair, his finger tapping the armrest gently as he continued to observe Benjamin for the dangerous job he was scheming.

Noting the desperate and hunger in his voice which was exactly half of what he wanted, he pressed on.

"Do you know exactly what job you're here for?" He said rhetorically, cutting off Benjamin who was about to answer. "You're to make the b*tch fall in love with you at all costs." He pushed a photograph forward.

Benjamin held the photograph to see the image of a young beautiful woman that could pass for a model.

Director Jack leaned closer, still quietly assessing Benjamin. "That's Lisa. Our star. She's the bone of this industry. Not the Industry we show to the outside world. Not yet. We want more traction in the Gig before exposure. No distraction. Stellar is more— Deeper than whatever you've seen or heard before."

Benjamin's gaze flicked back to the picture again.

"Your job is to make her head over heel with you. But," He leaned in, his expression firm. "You must not reciprocate the affection. It's forbidden for you."

Benjamin's gaze flicked to the director again, a slow, almost confident smile crawling to his lips. "That's quite easy, Sir," He said confidently. "You can trust me. Love doesn't matter. Money does."

A pause.

"But if I May ask, Sir. Why are you doing this?" Benjamin ended curiously.

Director Jack's expression changed instantly as his eyes darkened at the question. "Listen," He started, his voice low but with a dangerous edge. "You have no business with the reason for this job. All you have to do is make the b*tch fall in love with you..."

A heavy pause. Tension spiking.

"And mind you, if I find out you're trying to dig beyond what I asked of you, or you're thinking of betraying me....then consider yourself dead before your next breath."