The Weight Of An Empire
Country: Aurivelle
City: Auremont
Grayson
Morning in Aurivelle always began before the sun fully claimed the sky.
For most people, the city woke slowly.
For me, the day had already started hours ago.
By the time my car pulled into the underground parking of Hawthorne Technology Innovation, my phone had already handled three international calls and a report from our Singapore office.
Work didn’t wait.
Neither did expansion.
The elevator opened directly into the executive floor.
Quiet.
Minimal.
Efficient.
Exactly the way I preferred it.
My assistant, Vivienne ,was already waiting outside my office with a tablet in hand.
She had been with the company for six years and knew better than to waste words.
“Good morning, Mr. Hawthorne.”
“Morning, Vivienne.”
She walked beside me as we entered my office.
Floor-to-ceiling windows overlooked the skyline of Aurivelle.
Glass towers stretched into the horizon … several of them owned by Hawthorne Real Estate.
The city was full of our fingerprints.
Vivienne began immediately.
“The Zurich investors confirmed the meeting for Thursday. They’re interested in the smart city integration project.”
“As expected.”
“They want to see projections for five years.”
“Send them the ten-year model instead.”
She paused.
“Ten?”
“Yes.”
If they wanted to invest in Hawthorne infrastructure, they needed to understand the scale.
Short-term thinking had never built an empire.
Vivienne made a quick note.
“There’s also the robotics startup acquisition you reviewed last night.”
“Schedule the founders for next week.”
“Video call?”
I shook my head.
“No. In person.”
I preferred looking people in the eyes before deciding if they were worth millions.
Clara nodded again.
She knew that meant the meeting was over.
My day moved quickly after that.
Meetings.
Reports.
Investment projections.
By eleven, I was already back in the elevator heading toward the car.
The driver opened the door the moment I stepped outside the building.
“Where to, sir?”
“Hawthorne Media.”
The car slid smoothly into traffic.
Aurivelle’s financial district blurred past the tinted windows.
Some people chased power their entire lives.
For my family, power had simply been inherited … and then expanded.
Dominic Hawthorne built the empire.
My job was to evolve it.
Twenty minutes later we pulled into the private entrance of Hawthorne Media Communications.
Inside, the atmosphere was different from the technology division.
More movement.
More voices.
Media people thrived on noise.
Still, the moment I stepped onto the executive floor, conversations lowered slightly.
Respect.
Or caution.
Sometimes both.
My media operations director, Greg, met me outside the conference room.
“Grayson.”
His tone was polite but slightly tense.
“What’s the issue?”
“Two of the fashion magazines are competing over the upcoming institute runway show coverage.”
I raised an eyebrow.
“That’s the problem?”
“They both want exclusive rights.”
“Give neither.”
Greg frowned slightly.
“Neither?”
“If both magazines belong to Hawthorne Media, competition between them only weakens the brand.”
He considered that for a moment.
“Then what do you suggest?”
“A joint feature.”
“Collaborative issue?”
“Yes.”
Silence.
Then he nodded slowly.
“That… actually solves the problem.”
Of course it did.
Conflicts often looked complicated until you stepped back far enough.
My phone buzzed just as I finished the meeting.
Mother.
I answered as I walked toward the elevator.
“Hello, Mother.”
Her voice was warm instantly.
“Grayson, darling.”
She was one of the few people who could soften the sharp edges of my day.
“You’ve been working all morning again, haven’t you?”
“I usually do.”
“You say that like it’s something to be proud of.”
I allowed the faintest smile.
“It keeps the company running.”
“Hm,” she murmured. “Well, tonight you’re not allowed to escape work.”
I stepped into the elevator.
“Family dinner?”
“Yes.”
“Eight o’clock.”
“I’ll be there.”
My mother never demanded.
But saying no to her had never felt like an option.
“Good,” she said softly. “Your father will be there too.”
Which meant the evening would likely involve at least one business discussion.
“And Grayson?”
“Yes?”
“There’s something interesting I want to tell you tonight.”
Her voice carried a hint of excitement.
That alone made me curious.
“I’ll look forward to it.”
The call ended as the elevator reached the parking level.
Next stop.
Hawthorne Real Estate Development.
By late afternoon, the city was glowing gold under the lowering sun.
My final meeting ended on the top floor of a half-completed tower overlooking the river.
Construction cranes stretched into the skyline.
“Completion timeline?” I asked.
The project manager answered immediately.
“Fourteen months.”
“Make it twelve.”
He blinked slightly.
“That would require expanding the workforce.”
“Then expand it.”
Silence.
Then he nodded.
“Yes, Mr. Hawthorne.”
Efficiency solved most problems.
Money solved the rest.
Night had settled across Aurivelle by the time my car pulled into the gates of the Hawthorne Estate.
The property stretched across several acres outside the city … part residence, part fortress.
The gates opened automatically.
Lights illuminated the long driveway leading to the mansion.
Even after years of seeing it, the house still looked like something out of another world.
Power rarely needed to announce itself.
But sometimes it did.
Inside, the staff greeted me quietly as I stepped into the foyer.
“Good evening, Mr. Hawthorne.”
“Evening.”
Voices drifted from the dining room.
Julian was the first to notice me.
“Look who finally decided to appear.”
He leaned back in his chair, flashing his usual careless grin.
“Thought work kidnapped you again.”
“It tried.”
Mother stood and crossed the room to hug me.
Marceline Hawthorne had always carried elegance effortlessly.
“How was your day?”
“Productive.”
She smiled.
“That’s my son.”
Father sat at the head of the table.
Dominic Hawthorne didn’t waste words.
“Sit, let's eat”.
I did.
Dinner began quickly after that.
Conversations moved easily between topics … business, politics, Julian’s latest social adventures.
At one point Father glanced at me.
“The Singapore expansion?”
“On schedule.”
“Good.”
That was his version of approval.
Halfway through dinner, Mother placed her glass down.
“There’s something interesting happening at the institute.”
Julian immediately leaned forward.
“Fashion gossip?”
Mother smiled.
“Not gossip.”
She looked directly at me.
“The final designer selections were completed recently.”
I nodded slightly.
I knew the program.
Our luxury division funded it.
“One of the examiners did something unusual,” she continued.
“Cassian?”
“Yes.”
Even Father raised an eyebrow.
Cassian was famous for one thing.
Being impossible to impress.
Mother continued.
“He gave a ninety-nine percent score to a designer.”
Julian nearly dropped his fork.
“Cassian?”
“Yes.”
Father frowned slightly.
“He rarely gives above eighty.”
“Exactly.”
Mother’s eyes sparkled slightly with interest.
“The designer is one Alvara, from Cressford ”
Silence settled across the table.
Julian leaned back slowly.
“Okay… that’s strange.”
Father looked thoughtful.
Mother smiled faintly.
“It seems an extraordinary talent is about to be groomed at the institute.”
She looked almost excited.
“The monthly runaway show is coming up I don't want anyone telling me they're busy”
Julian shrugged.
“I’m in.”
Father nodded once.
Mother looked at me.
“Grayson?”
“I’ll attend.”
Her smile widened.
“I knew you would.”
Dinner continued after that.
But the name stayed in my mind.
Alvara.
Weeks ago I visited Cressford.
The incident with the client
I remembered the designers.
But not one of them had stood out enough to be called extraordinary.
Especially not by Cassian.
Which meant one of two things.
Either my mother was exaggerating…
Or I had missed something.
As I left the estate later that night, the thought returned again.
Alvara.
If someone like Cassian believed she was worth ninety-nine percent…
Then eventually…
the entire industry would know her name.
And I intended to see why.