When Empires Fall Read Online Free PDF Page A

eyes shifted to his great-great-grandfather’s portrait. Alton Vasser, who, perhaps since the portrait was much older, looked dry and humorless, cold and shallow. His expression was vacant and unfeeling, his dark eyes emotionless. And yet this had been the man that had started the first Vasser Hotel and built it from the ground up, making it, with the help of his only son Winston, into the empire that Grant and his family were a part of today. So Grant knew he had to throw ample respect and appreciation at his great-great-grandfather, simply because of that alone.
    Inscribed in a gold plague embedded in the chestnut frame of each portrait was the name and favorite quote of each man. Not surprising, his grandfather’s quote read: The King’s name is a tower of strength.
    Cyrus had always taught them that the only reason their legacy held power was because their name was timeless and embedded in the history of the country and of the people who lived there. Quite simply, reputation was everything, and tarnishing the name meant losing it all.
    But Cyrus was up there in the years now, just past ninety, and Grant knew it was only a matter of time before the old man passed, and someone else in the family was crowned with the prestige and burden of being responsible for every facet of the empire.
    Not that Grant expected he would be the one. After all, he might have been qualified, but he was one of the youngest in the family, and therefore pretty low on the pecking order in regards to seniority. But he didn’t mind, so long as he was allowed to continue his duty as general manager of the Vasser Hotel in New York City. It was the original, and in his mind, the best of all the Vasser hotels. Then one day, when it was his turn, he would take over and do the best he could to preserve everything his forefathers had worked for. It was, after all, his legacy and his obligation to do so.
    He was jolted out of his reverie when there was a brisk knocking on his door once again, only this time the person did not wait for him to beckon them in. But when he saw his Uncle Marshall, he made sure to unruffle his feathers and at least attempt something other than a frown.
    “I’m sure going to miss seeing Tara’s pretty smile every day,” Marshall said wistfully, a sad smile quirking his lips as he came into the room and shut the door at his back.
    “I’m sure all of us will miss her,” Grant replied, warring internally between his work obligations and his family as he eyed his uncle, wondering how he could get out of having a long and winded conversation about the new secretary. He really didn’t care very much to hear Marshall’s opinions on the woman, especially since his own opinions were likely to vary drastically. Tara had been a fortunate contradiction to the usual difference of opinion between he and his uncle regarding pretty much everything.
    Marshall chuckled, his massive frame shaking with it beneath his stylish charcoal gray suit.
    He was a large man, but not in the overweight sense. He rose to a near six foot five, built with broad shoulders and a midsection that had gotten thicker over the years given his impeccable love of fine cuisine and good brandy. With the help of a clever stylist, he kept his hair fuller than it naturally would have been and with only a light dusting of gray against a rich chocolate brown to match his generous and timeless mustache. As a result, he looked a lot younger than his seventy-one years, and he certainly acted younger, too.
    He had the same twinkling, charming blue eyes of his grandfather, Winston, and by all accounts he acted very much like the man as well. Marshall was the life of the party at any event and a great poster boy for the Vasser family, a role he had played nearly all of his life. After all, he was Cyrus Vasser’s oldest son out of seven boys, which meant he was next in line to inherit the family empire. So long as he could outlive the old man, anyway.
    “Well, I’m sure