Anastasia's POV
I stared at the sheets in front of me. We were going bankrupt. My father had a stroke scare when the bank called him.
Oh my goodness, we're going to lose our house. Business was bad.
"Darling, try to eat something." My mother has been trying to get my father to eat.
He was glued to the TV. A lot of calls kept pouring in to find out if the company could be salvaged or not.
He was at his wits end. Trying to get a larger loan had not been easy for him.
"Hello, Beverly residence speaking." I answered the telephone. .
'We need an assurance that our monies are not going with the bank order." A harsh voice spoke.
"Yeah, we assure you that everything is under control."
"What is the survival rate of that shamble?" Another spoke.
"We need to have a meeting with your father. If he doesn't give us solid reassurance, we'll vote him out." The first speaker spoke and hung up.
"Who was that?" My mom inquired.
"Um, nobody, just someone from work."
" Okay."
"Please help me get your father to eat something. He's been staring at the TV all day." I pitied her. I couldn't imagine how she must be feeling right now, seeing her husband in such a pitiable state.
"Okay, mom."
"Dad, you need to eat something." I started, lifting the tray into his line of vision.
"I shouldn't have invested in that." He said it regretfully.
I placed the tray down. "Dad, nobody could have known that things would turn out this way." I tried to console him. The man who was an anchor suddenly crumbled apart in front of me.
"We can't go back to the streets." He mumbled.
"We won't; first I need you to eat something. Starving yourself wouldn't do you any good." I advised.
"The doctor said you need good nutrition at this time." I reminded him.
"If I commit suicide, you'll inherit my debts, and your mom will be devastated." He spoke.
"Dad, I promise you, we'll get through this."
I couldn't tell him what the other board of directors said.
"I have two million dollars to pay back," he said.
"You are little; you can't understand. Promise me that when the bank comes, you'll run away." He said.
"You can't ask that of me. I won't desert you, not now or never." I replied.
"But you have to do it." He tried to convince me.
"No, I don't." I replied.
"You're my father; we'll get something done about it." I promised, though I doubted myself.
How was I going to bring that into fruition?
"You're such a good lass." He said that, and I smiled as he took a small portion of food.
"Don't harm yourself, pops."
"I'm sorry for bringing you into this mess." He apologized to Mom and me.
"We are one; we are not going anywhere." We had a family hug.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
What to do? What to do? I should probably go to the bank and ask for more time. in case there is a good turnover.
"Good morning, sir."
"My name is Anastasia Beverly." I stretched my arm, but it was ignored.
The bank manager looked me up and down and motioned to a chair.
"Sit down."
"Thank you, sir."
"Umm," I said, clearing my throat. I am searching for the right words to begin my presentation.
"I have come to ask and plead for an extension of the loan due."
"How many extensions has your father requested?" He asked me, and I winced.
This was the fourth time, and I thought he would be kinder to overlook that.
"I promise you, this time will be different. We need our house. Please don't send us to the streets." I pleaded.
"Your father did that all by himself. Maybe you should entreat him." He replied in a snarky tone.
How could someone be so wicked? Who ever thought that an investment would crash? It was a small business. Something he built from scratch. It was a miscalculation on his part.
"He didn't know that he would be duped." I defended him.
"Please don't go iudgey on me. The decision stands." He said.
"Maybe you can help us do something about it. Just give us more time. In a month's time?" I pleaded on my knees.
"Miss Beverly, this is inappropriate. My hands are tied." He said that, and I sighed.
"In case you change your mind."
"Please leave my office." He dismissed me.
Goodness gracious, what am I going to do now?
"Hello!" I spoke harshly into the receiver.
"What?" I asked.
"I'm sorry about that, Mason. I'm having a bad day.
"You must be joking," I said.
"No, I'm actually not. Can you imagine that?" He said.
"Wait, I don't understand; he's paying that huge sum of money to get him an heir?"
"It beats me. Three million dollars is quite a huge sum of money just for a surrogate." He agreed.
"Wow, people have money." I shook my head in surprise.
"Send me the news; I can't seem to wrap my head around it." I said.
A minute later, my phone dinged. A picture of Vincenzo Winston in the news column.
SEARCH FOR A SURROGATE.
"There would be a ball for eligible ladies in America." It is for the selection of an appropriate surrogate.
There would be a lot of games and tests to determine who would be the lucky mother of the heir of the Winston Dynasty. Any woman chosen to be awarded three million dollars.
Note that this is not a search for a wife. Do you know anyone interested? Call this number."
"Are you there?" I heard Mason's voice.
"Yeah, yeah."" I breathed out as I copied the number.
This could be a ticket to solving my parents bankruptcy.
"It's weird, right? What if he has another plan?"
"Like?" I asked.
"If he has an infection and wants to spread it around?"
I hissed. "Mason, you're not making sense."