Becoming The Billionaire's Desire

Emily or Roisin Byrne...

~~An egg falls to reveal a messy secret~~

                                                Ulli Beier

Ireland, 7 years ago.

Emily’s POV

“Come here little rose,” my dad tickled me as he pulled me to himself, I could smell his aftershave as he settled me in the crook of his right shoulder “I am sorry,” he whispered.

“Can you stop calling me a little rose?” I pulled away from his arms hating the way he always makes me forget how much he has offended me.

“C’mon baby, don’t be such a brat. You’ve always liked to be called Little Rose. Come to papa,” he opened his arms again.

“My name is Roisin, father and not Little Rose. I am 16 years old and my whole life depends on you not calling me that name. I’ll lose face,”.

“You don’t need to be ashamed of your name,” he narrowed his eyes.

“Well, I am father,” I glared at him in frustration “Couldn’t I have been given better names like Emily, Maddison…” I trailed off as I caught my father scrolling through his phone.

“Dad,” I screamed in hysterics “I am talking to you,” I went towards him, snatched his phone and dropped it on the coffee table in the garden with a bang.

“What were you saying, honey?” he smiled showing off his dimpled cheeks something I wished I had.

“I want a change of name,” crossing my arms, I began to tap my feet in impatience.

“No,” he crossed his leg and regarded me with infuriating patience. I always hated it when my dad had his ‘daddy understands face on’.

“Can I know why?” I tried to be a bit calmer, but I could feel my entire body vibrating in anger. Patience has never been my thing.

“Because when you were born, the first time I set my eyes on you, I knew I would be hooked forever and you ought to be so thankful because you weren’t named after any grand aunt or grandmother. The first thing that flashed to my mind was Roisin. You were the most beautiful baby I had ever seen. You still are,” he winked at me.

“If you were going to name me Roisin,” I exaggerated by waving my hands in disdain “then why did you send me to a school filled with American students. Why didn’t I go to a school with people who are Irish? Every day, I need to put up with people who bully me and teachers who mispronounce the name. I am f*****g tired,”.

“Bí ag faire ar do theanga, a bhean óg (Watch your language young lady),” he snapped at me “And stop complaining. I sent you to an American school so you can speak and communicate in English. Besides, I want you to be a polished young girl, or don’t you want that too,” he winked again at me.

“Uhh…” I sighed in frustration as I picked up my bag and headed for the door. I knew it’ll be a total waste of time trying to convince him.

“Where are you going to?” his voice stopped me at the door.

“To school,” I narrowed my eyes “Where else would I go?” I glared.

“You need to watch the way you speak to me, Roisin,” My dad stood up in fury. Whenever he’s angry, his Irish accent becomes notice and thicker than usual.

“You weren’t raised this way but these days, all you’re so concerned about is your social life and things I really do not understand why you should go into them. For crying out loud, Roisin, this is not your culture,”.

“Yeah,” I scoffed continuing to the door “but it’s our culture to make your child speak English, go to American schools and a whole lot…”.

“Roisin lookout,” my dad called suddenly but I continued walking, refusing to look backwards. Suddenly, my dad sped past me and stood in front of me as something swooshed right towards him, he fell right in my presence, as blood trickled down his cheek.

“Dad…” I dropped to my knees to attend to him. 

~~~

I woke up with a jolt, soaked in my own sweat, for the longest of time, my father’s dream has been my biggest nightmare. Sometimes, I will be the one-shot, other times, it’ll be my mom or one of any of my family members. The only thing I was afraid of was losing my father’s memory forever. Unlike my dream, he had died in my arms. He had died while protecting me from an unknown enemy, so every day, I am haunted by the realization that I had a role to play in my father’s death. I swung my legs on the floor and stood up, I was never a morning person. I slowly made my way to the bathroom at one corner of the room and stared at myself in the mirror…

I saw first my father’s face and then my face. My story is one that I have kept to myself, unwillingly to share with the rest of the world. I lost my dad in the most gruesome way one can think of. Like every other morning when he would drop me off at school, that day was different, perhaps if I hadn’t walked away angrily, he wouldn’t have chased me or if I had listened to him and walk straight into the school compound…

My life would have been a second better. But here I was, almost 24; sad, lonely and depressed. Like Amy, I had been through a lot but I’ve decided that the more I ignore the pain, the more they go away forever. I am happy and content to just live life as Emily.

The guilt and pain of watching my dad die and knowing I had a hand, made me run away. I couldn’t bear to face my other cousins or even my mother and stepmothers. If my family is like any other normal family, then perhaps, I would have run to them but I know for the rest of my life, I would be made to live with the painful awareness that my father died because of me…

As if he wasn’t my father too.

They said I am not enough for an Irish girl. My blond hair which is carefully concealed with a wig was the first disapproval that never made me my grandmother’s favourite.

“No one in the family has blond hair,” she had crinkled her nose in disgust and passed me back to my father who stood in awe as he gazed at me – he thought I was the most beautiful thing on earth.

Instead of freckles on my face like every other Irish girl, mine was replaced by rather brown skin and smooth skin that didn’t scream Irish. I was too tall for a woman, too slender and would readily speak my mind. Before I turned 13, I was a total badass at fencing, could speak French, Irish and flawless English and I replaced all my long gowns with skinny trousers and cut my blond hair short.

My dad was my biggest supporter and would turn a deaf ear to all complaints made by my mother and grandmother. He wanted me to be a star and would secretly allow me to attend concerts held by American musicians; he was obsessed with the Americans; the same people who betrayed him and killed him.

A night before he died, he had gotten into a very heated argument with a man whose face had faded from my memory, they had almost exchanged blows if not for my timely intervention before the man huffed in disdain and walked past me.

“What is it, Papa?” I had crouched close to my dad who crumbled on the chair as soon as the man left, he had looked older than his already 47 years old at that time.

“My little Rose,” he smiled and cradled my face in his hands “I’ll be fine,” he tried to smile.

“Is it money?” I asked, “I heard almost all the conversation,”.

“Ah, Roisin,” he covered his face with his hands “I am a bad father,”.

“No, Papa,” I squeezed his hands in assurance “I’m going to make you a lot of money from my modelling try out at Dublin this weekend and I promise one day I’ll make you proud,”.

He only nodded and smiled at me – He knew he was going to die.

Even before he crumbled in death the next day, He had worn a smile on his face to mask the pain from the five bullets pumped into his body. He died a Hero.

~~~

I shook my head vigorously to rid my mind of my thoughts…

“Roisin Byrne” I smiled slowly as I slipped into my Irish accent loving the way it rolled off my tongue “You’ll be fine,” I sighed and started my morning hygiene.

***

“Hey,” Jack sidled near me and planted a kiss on my forehead “How was your trip to New York yesterday?”.

“She lost the baby,” I told him slowly. Images of Amy gazing in shock when she had been told by the doctor that the baby was born stillborn, was one that would never leave my head.

“I am so sorry,” Jack squeezed my shoulders comfortingly “She must be really sad,”.

“Uhmm…” was all I could mutter. No words can describe the pain we all felt, that child was so important to every one of us.

“Let’s have dinner later,” Jack winked at me knowingly and disappeared into his bunk.

Sometimes, our relationship looks so unreal but he made me so happy and these days, I think less of Austin.

“Hey, Emily,” the director called out making me snap out of my reverie.

“Hey,” I managed a smile and swung to my feet “What’s for breakfast today?”.

“Love, romance,” he emphasized “I need you to affect us with this little scene with Jack today. So, I’d like you to give it your best shot, okay?” his eyebrows pointed at me “We would only be using this location once and that’s all. So, I will give you an hour to rehearse your lines with Jack and the rest of the cast. See ya,” with that he moved away.

I have been acting all my life…this would not be hard.