Golden caviar glistened atop delicate blinis.
A platter of Wagyu beef, marbled to perfection, sat beside a tower of fresh lobster tails.
Truffles, both black and white, had been shaved generously over eggs that gleamed like spun gold.
A selection of exotic fruits, some Brandon couldn't even name, filled crystal bowls.
As the family dug in, Brandon savored each bite, marveling at the explosion of flavors.
He caught Bailey's eye, and she grinned, a smear of foie gras on her chin.
After they'd eaten their fill, Victor cleared his throat.
"Now, as per Blackstone tradition," he began, reaching into his jacket pocket.
He pulled out two sleek black cards with an exquisite "B" emblem on it, sliding one to Bailey and one to Brandon.
"Each of you gets $100 million when entering NOA. Use it however you see fit - start a business, build contacts, or simply indulge yourselves."
Brandon's jaw dropped.
"One... one hundred million?" he stammered, his mind reeling.
Victor grinned, his eyes twinkling with amusement.
"You seem surprised, son."
Brandon blinked rapidly, his fingers hovering over the black card.
Victor's brow furrowed.
"Brandon, are you alright? You look like you've seen a ghost."
"I... I'm sorry," Brandon stammered.
"It's just... a lot to take in."
Brandon's mind raced. He needed to tread carefully, to explain his apparent memory loss without raising too much suspicion.
"I know I'm me, I recognize all of you," he said, rubbing his temples.
"But I seem to have forgotten… a lot."
Victor leaned forward, his eyes narrowing.
"Interesting. And what about your childhood? The time period before your incident."
Brandon felt a bead of sweat form on his brow.
"I... I'm not sure. It's like there are gaps. Big ones."
Victor's gaze remained fixed on Brandon, his expression unreadable.
"Son, I want you to think carefully. Is there anything else you remember? Anything at all that might seem... unusual or out of place?"
For a moment, Brandon felt a strange sensation, as if something was trying to push its way to the surface of his consciousness.
But as quickly as it came, it vanished.
"No," Brandon replied slowly.
"Nothing specific. Just that I got blindsided and hit my head on a toilet bowl. Why?"
Victor exchanged a quick glance with Arthur before his face softened into a reassuring smile.
"Just checking, son. Memory loss can be tricky. We want to make sure we're not missing anything important."
"I... I'm not sure how to explain it," Brandon began, his voice hesitant.
"It's like I'm looking at a book where most of the pages are blank. I know who you all are, but the details... they're just not there."
Annie leaned forward, his brow furrowed with concern.
"What do you mean, darling?"
Brandon took a deep breath, choosing his words carefully.
"It's as if I'm starting fresh. Like a clean slate. I recognize you, I know you're my family, but the memories, the experiences... they're just out of reach."
Annie's hand tightened on his arm, her eyes shimmering with unshed tears.
"Sweetheart, what do you remember before waking up in the hospital?"
He shook his head slowly.
"Not much. It's all pretty hazy. I feel like I'm learning everything for the first time even though I already know it, if that makes sense"
Victor exchanged another glance with Arthur, something unspoken passing between them.
"Well, son," he said, his voice carefully controlled, "we'll help you fill in those blank pages. One day at a time, don't overexert yourself."
"So, where were we," he began as he sank back into his seat,
"Ah yes, the $100million…"
Victor gestured to the black card in front of Brandon.
"At our level, money is but a string of numbers. What truly matters - what keeps our family at the pinnacle of society - are the connections we forge, the bonds we nurture, and the alliances we cultivate…"
Victor leaned in, his voice low and intense,
"These are the true currencies of power."
He gestured around the opulent dining room.
"What might seem like unnecessary luxury to the average person is a necessity for us. It's the price of admission to the circles where real power resides. The right party, the perfect gift, the most exclusive experiences - these are the keys that unlock doors to relationships that shape the world."
Brandon glanced down at the black card in his hand, its weight suddenly feeling far more significant than mere plastic should.
Victor's voice softened.
"Remember kids, in our world, true wealth isn't measured in dollars, our currency is the strength and reach of our influence. This money? It's just a tool to lead the powerless."
Brandon's fingers traced the smooth edges of the black card, his mind reeling from Victor's words. The weight of this new reality settled upon him like a heavy cloak, both exhilarating and terrifying.
$100 million.
With a flick of his wrist, he could buy a mansion, an island. Or a small country.
Talk about a silver spoon.
But Victor's lesson rang in his ears.
This wasn't about the money.
It was about power, influence, shaping this parallel world from gilded shadows.
Brandon's gaze drifted across the lavish dining room, seeing it with new eyes.
Every crystal chandelier, every priceless painting - they weren't just decorations.
They were crafted statements of power, carefully designed to both impress and intimidate.
He thought of the music industry he'd spent a lifetime in and would soon venture into once again. The backroom deals, the manufactured stars, the illusion of choice presented to the masses.
Was this so different? Just on a grander scale?
A part of him recoiled at the idea.
Wasn't this the very system he'd once despised, railed against as a struggling producer?
The elite puppeteers, pulling strings, deciding the fates of the masses from their gilded towers?
Yet now, he found himself not just among them, but poised to become one of them.
Brandon's mind raced, possibilities unfurling before him like a vast tapestry. He could revolutionize music in this world, armed with knowledge from his past life and resources beyond imagination.
Popularity itself is a currency of influence, if he had enough of it…
Who knows…
He looked at Bailey, her eyes sparkling with mischief as she pocketed her card. At Victor, radiating authority. At Annie, the epitome of grace and poise.
This was his family now.
Their world, their rules.
Let the games begin.
=======
[ Pierre duPont's Penthouse ]
*Ring... ring... ring...*
Pierre groaned, his head pounding from last night's excesses. He reached over the tangled limbs of two sleeping supermodels, fumbling for his phone on the nightstand.
"Who the hell is this?" he mumbled, his voice thick with sleep.
"It's me." Elise's crisp tone cut through his foggy brain like a knife.
Pierre bolted upright, suddenly wide awake.
His heart raced, old memories of childhood beatings flashing through his mind. Even now, years later, Elise's voice sent a shiver down his spine.
"E-Elise! What can I do for you?" he stammered, trying to keep his voice steady.
"Did you know Brandon's back?"
Pierre blinked, confusion momentarily overriding his fear.
"Brandon? Our Brandon? He's been MIA for almost a year! How do you-"
"I have my sources," Elise cut him off coldly.
A sly grin spread across Pierre's face.
"Oh? Still keeping tabs on your childhood crush, are we?"
Silence crackled over the line, and Pierre immediately regretted his teasing. When Elise spoke again, her voice could have frozen hell itself.
"Check Bailey's twitter page. Now."
"But-"
The line went dead.
Pierre stared at his phone, a mixture of annoyance and curiosity battling in his mind.
With a sigh, he opened the Twitter app, navigating to Bailey's profile.
Pierre's jaw dropped, his eyes widening in disbelief as he watched the video on Bailey's Twitter page.
There was Brandon, perched on a balcony like some modern-day Romeo, his fingers dancing across guitar strings with effortless grace. But it was his voice that truly stunned Pierre - rich, powerful, soaring over the lush gardens below.
The music was hauntingly beautiful, a siren call that seemed to reach through the screen and grip Pierre's very soul.
"What the hell?" he muttered, rubbing his eyes in disbelief.
"Since when could Brandon sing like that? "
The Russian supermodels, roused by the commotion, peered over Pierre's shoulders.
"Ooh, who is zat?" one of them cooed, her accent thick.
"He iz so hot!"
"And zat voice!" the other chimed in.
"Like angel, no?"
They huddled closer, their eyes glued to the screen. Pierre felt a twinge of jealousy as the women fawned over Brandon's performance.
"Alright, alright," he grumbled, shooing them away.
"Show's over. Your gift bags are by the door. Don't forget to sign the NDAs."
As the models sauntered out, Pierre's eyes widened at the video's stats.
Over 10,000 likes in just a couple of hours?!
Pierre scrolled through the comments, his eyebrows climbing higher with each swipe. The video had exploded, attracting attention far beyond their usual social circles.
@LilMissSwift: [ Who IS this guy?! Someone get him a record deal STAT! ]
@HotterThanHades: [ Forget the voice, is he single ? Asking for a friend... Oopsies... I think I just came <3 ]
@FashionFiend23: [ OMG! Is this what angels sound like? I'm dead! ]
@PopPrincess99: [ I don't know who he is, but I'm ready to be Mrs. Mystery Guitar Man ]
He stumbled out of bed, nearly tripping over discarded champagne bottles.
Fumbling with his phone, he hit Brandon's number.
Ring…
Ring…