By
Marlene Bierworth
Billionaires & Debutantes
Book # 2
Copyright
A Legacy for Bryan ©2020 Marlene Bierworth
Cover Design done by V. McKevitt
No part of this book may be reproduced by any means, graphic, electronic, or mechanical including photocopying, recording, taping or by any information storage retrieval system without written permission of the author, Marlene Bierworth, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews.
This book is a work of fiction. Names, places, character and events are the product of the author’s imagination. While the author has tried to be historically correct, her goals in this book are great characters and storytelling. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events or locals, is purely coincidental.
All books titled or quoted in this story belong to their respective authors.
This e-book is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This e-book may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each person you share it with. If you're reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then you should return it and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the author's work.
About the Series
This series is not intended to promote materialism but embrace the popular and growing billionaire trope in the book market today. Unique to Billionaires & Debutantes, is the fact that the stories are filled with Christian themes. God does bless His people financially and He does want us to enjoy abundance—as long as He remains Lord of all.
There are many things we can take away from this type of storyline, whether rich or poor. None are immune to struggles and we all carry some kind of burden. With great wealth comes great responsibility, which opens a lot of possibilities for themes in this gender. It also provides a wider range as to where and what the characters in a book can do unhindered by financial restrictions. And lastly, it allows all of us to dream big as we walk alongside fictional characters in their adventures, heartbreaks and happy-ever-after romances.
With ideas flowing, the authors writing in this series hope you’ll find it an exciting and fun path to explore. Thank you for taking this journey with us. May the Lord bless you abundantly in all areas. At the same time, like the Apostle Paul wrote, may we be content in whatever circumstance we find ourselves. Most of all, may we never lose sight of Jesus.
About this book
A disinherited playboy and a Christian missionary are headed for Africa—what could possibly go wrong? Amidst chaos, confusion, and accusation, can two disparate people find common ground? Only a love strong enough to draw all men willing to bend their knees can see them through.
Bryan Charter IV was supposed to be living in the lap of luxury with an inheritance in the billions, not winging toward a third-world country where he will confront poverty beyond his comprehension.
Having responded to a dying man’s final request, Katelyn Simms takes on the challenge of helping the spoiled playboy find purpose beyond pleasure in his new existence. When the reading of the will commences, she summons strength from within to see herself through this new merry-go-round quest.
Can determination and a tenacious spirit see them to the end of their journey? Tag along with this estranged duo as they travel from New York to Nairobi and back to South Carolina in this heartwarming story of awakening faith, hope, and love.
Table of Contents
Cover Page
Copyright
About the Series
About the Book
Table of Contents
Chapters 1 through 14
Epilogue
What’s Next in the Series
Author Bio
Stay Connected
Earthly inheritance will profit a man in this world, but as heirs of Christ, spiritual riches will exceed our greatest imaginings.
Chapter 1
Bryan waited while his driver opened the trunk of the sleek black limousine to retrieve the small suitcase he’d packed for his visit aboard the Sea Winder. He hoped to settle the business quickly and get back to the tall, slim brunette waiting for him at his New York penthouse. She was his latest source of entertainment, providing everything his soul had craved, wrapped up in one hundred and twenty pounds of sheer delight.
It was a rather significant day after two weeks of play-acting to a grieving world over the tremendous loss of Bryan Jerome Charter III, whose memory would be cherished by millions due to his charitable endeavors. Bryan was the fourth in his lineage of like names. He hated that his name cloned his father’s and was now connected to good deeds and the expectation of a continuous flow of giveaways the public had come to expect.
Well, they could wait from now till doomsday before those greedy vultures would see any more of the Charter wealth. He was the man’s only son, undoubtedly heir to billions and a family business that ran smoothly at the hand of skilled employees. It earned enough funds to duplicate what was needed to finance his party lifestyle until they’d buried him six feet under. No more answering to the old man for every dollar trickling through his fingers. Gone were the threats of having his trust fund cut to resemble that of a poor man’s income. Yes, even though he was now alone in the world, life was indeed looking up.
He scanned the distant waters to see the yacht anchored offshore. A cruiser waited at the dock for him, and he noted that the first mate was manning the smaller vessel while he paced the dock impatiently. The man was a subordinate, and he could be downright rude at times, though not with his mouth—his father never would have tolerated back-talk—but with his attitude. The man was full of himself, and Bryan had no idea why the family had kept him employed.
Maybe, after the reading of the will, when he had the final say of who came and went, he would fire the rascal, thus setting a precedent for the rest of the underlings. Job security was a thing of the past, and he’d no longer tolerate charity cases with the aim of providing a paycheck for society’s derelict. He sighed sadly, realizing these so-called “derelicts” were the only ones qualified to keep his world running smoothly. The upper crust with which he hung would not have a clue how to keep the company books in the green, maintain four homes, sail a ship around the world, or fly the family jet. He supposed the peons had their use, and he’d need to be more tolerant of their presence and dressing them in uniforms helped create a more acceptable image for him.
He started down the cement walkway past the many rows of docked boats content to sit in their slip and visit their neighbors. When he reached Row Ten, he turned and wheeled his suitcase toward the waiting Sea Winder Junior.
The sight of the first mate generated a strange heaviness inside him, Bryan’s nagging thoughts of his future responsibility no doubt the culprit, having implanted all sorts of anxiety concerning his future role as heir to the Charter enterprise. Being doled out a sizable monthly budget was more his style. He’d never considered the countless decisions and the weight of the number of lives he’d be required to oversee.
Bryan was twenty-six, unemployed, single, and happy to stay that way, not the least bit ready or interested in the burden of everyday tasks that had tied his father behind his massive oak desk at Charter Oaks, their main residence in South Carolina. The first order of business would be to find a reputable man he could trust and keep under his thumb with the least effort. That would allow him to continue in party-mode while entertaining the carefree Camilla.
In a slightly better humor, he passed his case off to the first mate. “Good morning…Statin, isn’t it?”
“The name is correct, sir
, but it’s afternoon. You are late.”
“I was out late last night,” Bryan said, annoyed at the man’s snarky remark. “They haven’t begun the reading yet, have they?”
“No, sir. They are waiting for you.”
“Of course, they are.” How ridiculous to assume they could pass on an inheritance without the main recipient on board. “Now, let’s board Junior here and get this thing over with.” Bryan hopped onto the rear platform and seated himself in a white leather chair. He spun it around to be free from Statin’s peering stare. How he’d love to end the man’s employment that very minute.
“Would you care for a drink, sir?” Statin asked.
Bryan chuckled. He supposed the man might have some redeemable qualities, after all. At least, he knew his priorities.
“Yes, please. Jack on the rocks. Today is a big day.”
“Yes, indeed, sir.” Statin started the motor to purring before he went hurriedly below, poured the drink, and returned to deliver it to Bryan in jiff-time. “We’ll be off, now. The yacht is ten minutes off-shore.”
Bryan swallowed the last of his drink and stood when the boat slid up next to the yacht. A door above his head swung open, and a rope stairway was cast down. He caught it and began to climb. A ship’s crewman reached for his hand to pull him the last foot over the top and into the interior. Bryan glanced behind him. Statin waved, half-heartedly, dropped the bumpers into place to protect the painted finish on the outside surfaces of both vessels, and tied the ropes from the smaller boat securely into its daytime resting nook, where it would stay until the next time someone needed to go ashore.
The door closed behind Bryan, sealed tight by vacuum-suction against the waves, should they rise to that level. In those rare cases, pumps had been installed to keep the area dry and safeguard the ship from taking in too much water.
Bryan entered a simple boarding area, housing emergency equipment and steps to an elevator directly ahead of him. He’d normally use the private helicopter when coming aboard his father’s vessel, landing him on the designated spot on the top deck instead of taking the long way around, but he’d been grounded at the New York penthouse, dealing with all the aftermath of the funeral, awaiting the day whose coming his father had prolonged for some bizarre purpose of his own, to attend the reading of the will.
He stepped off the elevator and made his way to his father’s office—the man had one in every location—where the reading would take place. As he neared, Bryan heard the buzz of voices, and wondered at the people milling around the bar in what he called the “party room,” the only place aboard where one could consume alcohol.
It hadn’t always been that way. His father had hosted and attended his share of party rooms in his lifetime—until wife number three brought him to church, and he was saved. Saved from what, Bryan hadn’t figured out yet, but it had managed to put a damper on family life. Since then, he’d spent his time abroad or on the islands, where there was no one to peer down their righteous noses as they pronounced his eternal damnation. When the religious tart had died quite suddenly in an accident, Bryan thought his father would return to his former glory status, but no such luck. He had, in fact, gotten worse, giving his money away, inviting the down-and-outers into his house and onto the yacht.
Bryan had feared that might be the plan for the Charter fortune—his misled father spreading his billions amongst the peons of this world!
No way! He’d contest it—the money, the houses, the ships, and the family business was his, and there was no way he’d let some low-life steal it from him.
He stopped by the bar where Jude grinned at him. “The usual, sir?”
Bryan nodded and asked, “Who are all these people? I only recognize a few.”
“Not sure myself, but they all came aboard with an invitation.”
Bryan’s suspicions grew. Now, he dreaded the reading of the will, and a cold sweat broke out on his forehead.
“Hot day today, sir,” Jude said, attempting conversation.
“Sure,” Bryan agreed. “So, where is Frank Bennis?”
“The lawyer is setting up in the office. I understand the procedure will be different. Each person will be called in separately to be given their inheritance.”
“What if I want to contest the will?”
“I’m sure Mr. Bennis has it all under control, and it will be done legally. He and your father planned it that way.”
“I’m his only son, and he won’t push me out of my due.” Bryan downed the entire contents of the shot glass and hit the counter as he sat down. “Keep them coming barkeep,” he said, sitting down.
He turned the barstool around so he could study the crowd. Everyone seemed fashionably dressed, wearing their finest attire. He probably looked the lowliest of them all, but there was no one amongst the group of strangers he’d need to butter up to—he was his father’s namesake and sole heir.
When his name was called, he jumped. “Mr. Bennis will see you now, Mr. Charter.”
Good. At least he was first. He supposed he could share any crumbs that might fall from the family’s checkbook. Was that the drink talking? His mind fogged, having had too many shots too quick. It was a stupid move. He should be in top form in case he had to fight these money grabbers off.
He swayed more than a little as he strode to the end of the hall where the lawyer waited, wishing the entire way he could blame his lack of balance on the wavy seas, but when he stepped into the office, he noted that the ocean view outside the narrow, full-length window revealed calm waters. It didn’t help that his insides soared as if in the throes of a tidal wave.
Frank Bennis called out to him, “Hello, Bryan. It’s been a while since your last visit.”
“Been busy, elsewhere.”
“Your father missed you, especially after his wife died.”
“How was I supposed to know my dad was sick? He never said.”
“Would you have come to sit by his bedside to watch him wither away from cancer?”
“It was fast. I’d just found out about the sickness and bang—he was dead,” Bryan said, defending his absence.
“Well, that’s water under the bridge, young man. Please, pull up a chair. We’re waiting on one other person.”
“I thought we were all coming in separately.” Louder, he said, “And who are all the people anyway?”
“Your father had many interests and charities. He has divided his wealth quite admirably, I believe.”
“Dividing is not what I expected, Frank.” Bryan’s voice bordered on explosive anger, and he bit off the rest of his remark to appear civilized.
Frank Bennis pushed his chair back and stood. “Thank you for coming, Miss Simms.”
Bryan twisted in his seat. The room spun with him as the result of his alcohol-induced buzz. He blinked hard to focus on the woman who stood quietly at the door, studying him with a stern expression. He’d guess her to be in her early twenties, and quite stunning, if you liked the homegrown, typical girl-next-door type. Her clothes were fashionable but not overstated and she wore her chestnut hair pulled back into a high ponytail. Her cheekbones were clearly defined with a rosy sheen, not to be misinterpreted as a blush, for her disapproval showed clearly in her countenance.
Bryan remembered his manners and stumbled to his feet, grabbing the edge of the desk to keep his balance.
Given his performance, her eyebrows lifted, and a smirk settled on her face to indicate she’d seen his kind before—so much for first impressions.
He motioned gallantly with the sweep of an arm to the chair beside him. “Please, join us. Your lovely presence has stirred my curiosity.”
She walked over with confidence, unable to disguise that natural, gentle sway of the hips he especially liked in a woman. When she reached his side, she offered her hand. “The name is Katelyn Simms.”
He took her small hand and felt the smoothness of her skin in his fingers. Excitement rushed his senses, and he cautioned himself against such an ear
ly reaction. She was definitely not his type, and he was drunk besides.
He held the chair for her, and she sat. “Thank you, Mr. Charter,” she said. She focused her eyes on the lawyer and smiled. “Shall we begin?”
Bryan plunked in his chair; her sobering presence having caused him to view himself from a different angle.
“I will read the first portion of the will the senior Mr. Charter wrote for all those included in the inheritance to hear. It is in layman’s terms, but I assure you, legal documents have been signed and are binding. Afterward, I will proceed to a page written specifically for you, Bryan, which you may have already guessed, involves this delightful woman sitting in the room with us.”
Bryan cast a sideways glance, but Katelyn appeared unmoved, like she already knew what was written on the unread page.
“This is the last will and testament of Bryan Jerome Charter the Third. ‘Death has crept up on me without much advance notice, and although my soul is ready to meet my Maker, it has given me no time to right the wrongs of my past, which the Lord has put heavily on my heart. I hope to make it right with those I have shunned far too long and others I have pampered to ruin. I trust you will all find it in your heart to forgive me, and by experiencing the guidelines outlined for each person, bind as a legacy that will grow into a new future for the family.’”
“What’s he going on about? He’s talking in riddles again.” Bryan was agitated. The introductory letter was irrelevant. “I am his only son, and I will not tolerate him sharing my birthright to ease his bruised conscience.”
“Whatever it says is binding,” Katelyn said. “You heard Mr. Bennis. I suggest you hold on tight while your father bequeaths his final wishes for you. He might have something in mind other than money.”
“Who are you?” Bryan wailed. “You have no business here.”
“I am here at your father’s request. Did you know I spent the last month of his life with him, nursing him and trying to ease the pain he felt from his absentee son?”
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