John's POV
I saw a man wearing a white cloak, staring at the stars from the roof of the Davidson Tower. He had grey hair like my father and the cool night breeze blew past his attire. I nestled closer and asked, "Dad, is that you?"
"Have you ever wondered why our family has remained on top these past few years?" My dad said.
I drew nearer and replied, "Because you were the one leading?"
He folded his hands, still staring at the stars. "Wrong," he responded. "The Davidson family has remained on top because every leader it has had always made sacrifices. Sacrifice, my son, is the only way to keep the family's wealth afloat." His body slowly deteriorated, carried by the wind.
"What?" I questioned, running towards my dad's body. "What do you mean? Are you trying to say I should marry Hannah?" I tried to touch the pieces of his body, but it was like dust. All I could hear were echoes of his voice saying, "Sacrifice."
I awoke suddenly, lifting my head from the pillow. Despite the air conditioning, sweat lingered on my forehead. "It was just a dream," I murmured. Dressed in blue pajamas and flip-flops, I headed to the dining room's mini bar. There, I discovered my mom, adorned in white pajamas, soaking herself in a glass of Screaming Eagle Cabernet 1992. I retrieved a glass from the bar and poured some wine from my mother's bottle into my glass.
"You can't sleep too?" My mother said, weakly. "I tried, but his voice keeps echoing in my head."
"I saw him in a dream. The only thing he said to me was, 'Sacrifice is the only way to keep the family's wealth afloat.' He disappeared afterward," I gulped my wine.
"That wasn't him, John; it's your head," she dropped her glass on the table. "This is the most difficult time in Davidson's history. Who would have thought that a time would come when wealth amassed over centuries would diminish in the wink of an eye? A huge portion of our investors have left. The board of directors is dead, and the only existing investors we have are bleeding in losses. Soon, we won't be able to afford the barest minimum - gasoline."
"That time won't come, mom. I won't let it."
"What else will you try? Since your dad has fallen ill, you've been running the family business. John, you have tried every possible idea you could think of. You've spent money employing great minds but still, the company keeps falling. It's over, John."
"We still have one more option," I glanced at my mother.
"The Andrews? I bet they'll be jumping around in joy right now. The almighty Davidsons have fallen."
I refilled my glass and said, "I will do it; I will marry her."
"Honey, you don't have to make such a grave mistake, because you want to keep the family's wealth afloat. I mean, what's life if you've got money and you don't have happiness?"
"My happiness died when Dad died. He was right; sacrifices must be made," I gulped my glass of wine.
My mother sighed. She stopped talking because she knew the type of son she had. She knew that once I had set my mind on something, no one could change it. Another thing that contributed to her silence was frustration. Words couldn't help this moment, so why speak too many?
In the morning, the Andrews were surprised to see me in their living room. The head, Mr. Richard Andrew, dressed in his black suit, sat on the grey plush couch and inquired, "John? To what do I owe this visit?"
"The least you could do I offer a soon-to-be son-in-law a seat," I responded.
His eyes widened slightly. He apologized, "My bad. Please have a seat," he gestured at a couch that stood next to his. His wife, Mrs. Mirabel Andrew, and her daughter, Hannah, sat on a couch just directly opposite mine.
"What do you want, John?" Mrs. Andrew asked.
"The same thing you want," I answered. "I accept the proposal you made before my father's death. I will do it; I will marry your daughter."
A smile encompassed Mr. Andrew's face as he said, "The boy has come to his senses. I always knew you had it in you."
"What are you doing, John?" Hannah asked. "I thought you would rather go to hell than marry me?"
"Oh, he's already in hell. That's why he came running over here," Mrs. Andrew placed her right hand on the armrest of the couch.
"Isn't it intriguing that he has let go of his pride?" Mr. Andrew turned to me. "Just like I told you before, it would take more than expertise to get your family back on track. Out of good will have I offered this help to your family. But today, I'll ask my daughter for her consent. If she agrees, my family and I will arrange the wedding but if she doesn't, your family can go rot in hell."
A wave of shock washed over me. This wasn't the agreement. The agreement was that the Andrews would give me their daughter's hand in marriage when I was ready. I kept silent, hoping that Hannah wouldn't take into consideration the harsh words I had told her yesterday.
Mrs. Andrew turned to her daughter and asked, "Dear, what do you say? Will you marry him?"
Mrs. Andrew's question was followed by a moment of silence in the room. All eyes were fixed on Hannah now. This could only end in two ways - me leaving this building brokenhearted or going to prepare for a wedding with someone I don't love.
"I will do it; I will marry him," Hannah answered.
Mr. Andrew turned to me and said, "Go home and relax. My family and I will take care of the rest. We will also forward the date of the wedding to you."
I stood to my feet, stared at the expensive work of art that adorned the walls, and expressed my gratitude, "Thank you." I left the building afterward.
Though my father had never seen the Andrews as his rivals, I saw them as a vicious, money-thirsty family that would do anything to stay on top. My decision was about to stir a whirlwind of events; events that would change the course of my life.