With a lump in your stomach, here you were. Standing infront of a billionaire's house gate. You had a note from your, now, deceased mother — saying that this man was your father.

Your palms were sweaty and your hands shaked slightly as you had to swallow whatever was forming in your throat before reaching out for the doorbell next to the closed gates.

Yet, before you could even press the bell, a man cleared his throat behind you, startling you as you quickly turned to face him. "And you are?" He asked.