This is kind of a baby of mine, although I'm not really too far into it. Please rip it apart though. It becomes a love/adventure story later on so I didn't know what to post it as, but for this chapter, I suppose it works as Sci-Fi.
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Prologue
My birth, according to all records, never technically happened. Although it would seem the fact I sit here writing these memoirs seems to contradict that statement entirely.
My mother, an actress, married an Italian noble, but that wouldn’t slow down my mother’s love of the party and men at all. She had me, out of wedlock, with the doctor who gave her various new surgeries. How traditional. The Italian, as I call him, was downright furious when he found out the beautiful baby girl in my mother’s womb, was not actually his.
They faked a miscarriage, and then claimed my mother was too devastated to come out of the house and into the public. After the appropriate amount of time though, I was born, and my parents were faced with a whole new set of problems. Who on earth was going to adopt me, and who would truly keep it a secret? They talked around with some of their most trusted friends and allies in the cruel world of publicity, and they all pointed them to one man, my adoptive father, Mr. Broughbuff.
Mr. Broughbuff was a billionaire who was the head of a scientific research facility and a notable society member. He was a social butterfly; always posing for a picture for the papers, or donating money to a worthy charity.
After a single meeting with him, I was officially his child. They signed away not only their rights as parents, but my rights as a child. I was his property, to use or dispose of. But he was a kind man, giving me anything I had ever dreamed of from the age of well…the first day he got me.
Before, I had been nameless and the bastard daughter of a doctor and an actress, and then I was Bianca Broughbuff, the gorgeous daughter of a billionaire and his silent yet lovely wife. Sadly though, Mrs. Broughbuff passed away one year after I was accepted into their household, and I was all that he had left.
He never gave me a birth date though. Something, that I think, was the first clue to how much I would owe to him, and how much I would have to give back.
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“Ms. Broughbuff, your father demands I wake you up,” the metallic voice rang through my bedroom. I knew it was coming from the speakers, since it was RISH, a program my father had come up with himself. RISH was a Robotic Intelligence Simulated Human-form, in other words and extremely smart robot that ran my household, and most households across the world.
“Too early,” I managed to croak. All the curtains in my room were extremely thick and dark, and kept any light from entering, which I appreciated right now. My head pounded, probably from my previous night, and my throat was prickly and dry. I could feel the makeup on my face, which itched from being left on all night while I slept. My long body was stretched randomly across the bed, with various limbs flopping randomly all over the place.
“He says that I may use drastic measures if need be,” Butler, the name I gave my RISH system, informed me. It was way too early for whatever my father though was going on. It was like, ten o’clock. Didn’t he know the meaning of sleeping in after a long night being out on the town? I managed stir a few of my limbs and saw I still had on my glitter-caked dress from the night before.
“Tell him to give me a moment,” I said, somehow managing to make my brain function just enough to get the sentence out.
“He says you have exactly one moment, that’s all,” Butler loudly announced. Ugh, I groaned, what in the world could possibly be so important? I was nineteen now, finally free of his mansion and in my own apartment, and here he was at blasted ten in the morning!
I stood up and walked into my bathroom. Clothes lay scattered all over the place, but I ignored them. Instead, I merely added to the chaos by slipping off my dress and searching the ground for a robe and loose pajama pants. I found them and wearily slipped them on and then shuffled over to my sink. I started the water and splashed it on my face before it became too warm, just to wake me up. Then, I removed the glittery make up with a washcloth and wetted my hair back into a glossy bun. My dark curls simmered in even the dim light.
I, being a heiress after all, looked into the mirror and gazed at my perfect face. Now, some would be critical saying that it wasn’t indeed perfect at all, but it truly was in every sense of the word. Since I had been fourteen, daddy had let me under the knife. He used his best doctors to make my face perfectly symmetrical, to make my eyes wide and childlike always, and to give me perfect large frosty pink lips. Also, the doctors sculpted my body into something that stopped men dead in their tracks on the sidewalk. All thanks to the official Bank of Daddy’s Cash Flow.
I looked into my shining blue eyes. They too were practically a work of art. The surgeons had implanted sparkly threads of purple, gold and silver so that no matter what, my eyes would catch the light and literally shine. Now, my perfect body wasn’t too uncommon, oh no, almost all the movie stars looked like this now; their face perfectly symmetrical, their eyes whatever colors they wanted. It was becoming cheaper and cheaper to become beautiful.
But I had been one of the first.
“He says now,” Butler announced once again. Since when did Butler learn how to be so sassy, I wondered. I briskly walked out of my bathroom, through my bedroom and into the living room.
He didn’t look happy by any means. My father, a tall, wide shouldered man with graying hair and inky blue eyes sat with his legs crossed on my couch. He had on a tux, like normal and his bowler hat covered what I could tell were furrowed eyebrows. His cane was tapping impatiently on the floor. All in all, it led for an extremely nerve-wracking experience. His face was symmetrical, yet he had kept his lips and nose exactly as they were before, just not evenly proportioned. His eyes though were almost black. It unnerved me. Why would you possibly get such a threatening look, I wondered, why not be light all the time?
“Let’s go,” he said as he stood up. It didn’t look like I really had any choice, but I was completely un-presentable for any paparazzi pictures that were sure to happen when we took a step outside.
“But daddy, I really need to get ready first,” I said in my wind chime voice. He looked at me, and for the first time in my life I was scared of him. Before, I had always been able to manipulate him, but not he looked utterly in control. It wasn’t like him. The anger lines did nothing good for his face. He needed those smile lines I was so used to. Where was my daddy?
“Now,” he hissed. He linked his arm through mine and we started off down my apartment complex’s hall.
“But what about the papara-“ I stared.
“There surely won’t be any where we’re going,” he replied. I noticed men in black at the end of each hallway, all equipped with high performance gear that my father’s company made. For the first time in a long time, I forgot about headaches, parties, and mischief, and wondered what in the world was truly going on
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