"And now, ladies and gentlemen! This is the moment we have all been waiting for."
The grand hall was divinely stunning with all manner of expensive design. All the tables for the program were tagged for very important persons. You could not find any commoner sitting among the wealthy, and by wealthy, I mean billionaires.
This meeting was not for millionaires at all, but strictly billionaires. The limousines of different brands showcased themselves out in a large space called a parking lot.
There was security crawling at every corner. There was not a place you would not look without finding one. The place was tightly secure, and anyone uninvited could not get in even if they wanted to try.
Chandeliers hung on the ceiling at different angles. The air conditioners gave the feeling of luxury in the air that you could almost hold it.
Men and women from different wealthy backgrounds were seated at their VIP tables, with brands of their wears yelling money.
"Please put your hands together for the man who made it all happen, Sir Duke!"
And the crowd clapped like robots, cheering like automated machines. Everything was too fancy and classy, not done in the way of commoners.
There he was, the billionaire of all billionaires. The man of men. Young and dashing, he was.
Duke Alexander, son of Alexander Rodriguez, the billionaire. His father was late, and of course, his only son was his only next of kin. His mother was also late, and he had no relations.
He was on his own, but not alone, with all the riches you could only imagine. Dreams couldn't dare dream about them. And even if they could, they could only reach one percent of the riches Duke Alexander had.
This guy was not born with a silver spoon, but a golden one, the kind that was customized for him from birth, with his name abbreviated on it.
His life was perfect, too perfect. To top it all, his stature finalized his completeness. He was brawny, tall, and everything any woman would love her man to be.
He had this nature of neutrality. He could be an angel or an enemy.
And the best part of it was that he was excellent at keeping things moderate. There was no need to overdo the necessary. If you were to meet him for the first time, apart from his neatness and his perfume with his clothes, you would not be able to tell his real status.
But this billionaire was not interested in living in a small house or estate to keep his neutrality or stay low-key. He preferred going out alone to places of calming interest, like a park or restaurant, to see what the real world lived like, just to remind himself once in a while.
He walked up the stage, looking the most dashing in the whole hall. He was not popular, and that was intentional. It had been that way since he was little.
He had made his dad promise not to announce to the world that he was the son of a billionaire.
His father was hurt, but it was Duke's birthday wish when he was little. He could not quite remember the age when he asked for it, and he was happy that he did.
He remembered the time when he was little, still on stage as he glared at the audience proud to see him there, when his dad had their limo pulled over by the road.
He was too little to have understood anything then. He peeped out the window and saw an ice-cream shop by the other side of the road.
Happily, he pulled his dad by the arm, pointing at it. "Daddy, daddy, I want some ice cream."
His dad was on the phone and could not really pay attention to him. So, he signaled the security guard in front to give him whatever the boy was asking for.
With other security guards in the cars in front and back of their limo, they surrounded the area to secure it before the instructed guard came out of the limo to open the door for little Duke.
He came out like a happy mouse.
"Ice cream! Ice cream!"
He pulled the security guard by the arm too.
"Little master wants some ice cream, agent three. What is your status? Over." He spoke into his micro earpiece.
"Road and shop are clear, agent one. You may commence movement. Over."
The boy was done waiting in anticipation. He pulled agent one until they reached the shop.
When the little bell above the door rang as it opened, Duke was a bit put off by what he saw.
His dad's security were almost everywhere.
Ignoring them, he went over to the counter, his body not tall enough to see over it.
"Upsies! I need upsies!" he almost cried.
Before the lady at the counter could count to five, one of the men grabbed a chair, and he and agent one helped Duke onto it, ensuring they were safe before returning to their positions.
The lady looked frightened. She almost wanted to run.
She was stunned that all this was for one little boy. She could be four times his age when she examined him.
"Three scoops of milky-chocolate flavor, please!" he smiled.
"No sprinkles or anything. I like mine plain," he added in a jolly tone.
The lady summoned the courage to do as the boy asked.
While waiting in the tense mood, Duke spotted another little girl, his age. She seemed frightened, hiding in a corner of the counter. She looked like the daughter of the woman.
He wondered why she was scared.
"Hi! I am Duke Alexander," he waved, greeting boldly.
Her mother turned to find out he was referring to her daughter.
"Why are you hiding over there? Don't you want some ice cream?"
The girl said nothing but kept hiding. She would peep her face out and then back again.
The lady was done with his ice cream.
Shockingly, he climbed over the counter, jumping to the other side.
All the guards readied their weapons as agent one yelled out, "Little master!"
Duke just signaled for him to be quiet.
He walked up to the girl, and she came out willingly to get a closer look at the boy her age in curiosity.
He smiled at her, an innocent smile, wanting to make a new friend. He had never really been with a kid his own age. He was always homeschooled, living with men and women older and taller than him, almost thinking he would not be as tall someday.
He snatched his ice cream from the woman and brought it over to the girl.
"Ice cream?" he offered generously with a cute smile.
The girl looked at the ice cream and then back at the boy. Suddenly, her eyes became teary, and she stepped a few steps away from Duke, shaking her head that she did not want the ice cream.
"Why?"
"You are with the bad guys. Bad people," she trailed off in a low tone.
Fortunately, agent one did not hear her. But Duke made him hear.
"I'm not bad. My dad's not bad. Why would you call me a bad person?" he yelled, clearly upset.
Agent one quickly went in and grabbed little master while he yelled his question over and over again until they were outside and heading to the limo. His ice cream had fallen to the ground, smudging it.
"Put me down!" he yelled.
And his wish was granted. He frowned at agent one deeply for interfering with the situation. Then, another agent brought another ice cream like the one he ordered.
"Your ice cream," agent one tried to compensate.
"You can have it. I want to go back home," Duke stormed off, back to the limo, refusing the driver to open it for him. So he opened it with his tiny hands and shut it too.
It was a hilarious sight.
Banging the door with his two hands, his father was forced to end his call.
"Yes, but..." he looked at his son, folding his arms, annoyed. He looked across and saw the ice cream shop, but Duke was not with any ice cream.
Then he noticed that agent one was holding an ice cream cone, looking confused about what to do with it.
"Son, what happened?"
It was as if the air conditioning in the limo became dense. The driver began to sweat for no particular reason, as if his boss had given him a death sentence.
He clicked on his micro earpiece so others could hear.
"Are we bad people, Dad?" Duke asked sadly, looking in the distance where the ice cream shop stood.
His dad waited for a moment before speaking.
"Who told you that, son?" he asked to be sure if it was agent one's doing.
"No one," Duke said, no longer interested in the matter.
"Come on, son. It's your birthday. Okay, make a wish for anything right now, and you will have it. Anything at all," his dad tried to cheer him up.
"I don't want people to know me," Duke cut him off.
"What?" his dad asked, extremely confused.
"I just want, if anyone should see me, they should think I am a regular kid like the others."
His father burst into laughter until he realized, "Oh, you're serious."
"Why would you wish that?"
"Please, Dad."
His dad just looked at him. The son of a billionaire wanted the status of a commoner.
If not that he could not go back on his words, he would have asked him to change his request.
His father agreed, knowing that he would still be known by the wealthy as his son, so there was no need to bother.
When they all got ready to leave, Duke accepted his ice cream back from agent one. Driving past, he thought of his request, happy that it was granted.
He wanted to be a commoner to apologize to the girl. He did not know whether what she said was true, but one thing was certain: the wealthy cannot know what is in the mind of a commoner about them unless they choose to stoop down to their level.
He was willing to do so, knowing it was a skill his father would never wish to possess to see the truth.