6

Zayden perspective 

I observed the scene unfolding between my father and Mila.

How did they know each other? Am I involved with one of my father's acquaintances? I wondered.

Mila barely meets my father's gaze, displaying immense respect for him, which piques my curiosity about the connection between them.

I've been searching for a way to get rid of her, and understanding her relationship with my father might provide a solution, I thought to myself.

"You've got yourself a beautiful young lady; I had no idea you'd started dating again," my father commented as he took a seat in my office after Mila had left.

I maintained a composed expression, wondering about the purpose of his visit. He doesn't typically come to my workplace, and I haven't been answering his calls. We haven't seen each other for a year.

"Why are you here?" I asked, my tone stern.

He chuckled lightly. "Why wouldn't I be in my son's company? That's quite preposterous," he gestured with his hands to emphasize the ridiculousness of my question.

"How do you know Mila?" I inquired once more.

"Oh, Mila is the daughter of a friend of mine. I had no idea she'd grown up to be this beautiful. The last time I saw her, she was 16," he explained.

I wasn't relieved as I had hoped; his explanation didn't seem sufficient to rid me of Mila. She just kept coming back, making me want her. I was exhausted by her relentless pursuit, and I found it irritating.

"You two should get married," my father suggested, jolting me out of my thoughts.

"What? What on earth!"

"Yes, she's a good girl. It's obvious you two are in a relationship. Why does the mention of marriage seem to agitate you?" He frowned, his eyes studying my conflicted expression. Marriage was the last thing on my mind; I had no desire for it.

"We aren't in a relationship," I admitted.

"Ah, you're just having a physical relationship with her, then?" He eyed me. "Her father mustn't find out."

"She keeps returning; how is that my fault?" I retorted, scowling at him.

" She would make a great wife, Zayden. You're growing older each day, and..."

"Why did you come here?" I interjected, growing impatient.

He glanced at me briefly and surveyed my office. A smug smile appeared on his face. This was the look I'd always wanted to see on his face.

I'd worked tirelessly, day and night, to earn his pride. However, seeing that expression wasn't bringing me the satisfaction I had expected.

Instead, my anger was mounting because my father had denied me something precious, and I wasn't sure if I would ever forgive him for it.

"Your office has changed since the last time I visited. That's impressive," he nodded.

"Why are you here?" I repeated my question, hoping to hasten the conclusion of our conversation.

"I came to see you and your office," he mumbled. The smile returned to his face. He was a well-built man of 55, and we shared a strong resemblance. Our hair was the same, sandy brown, and our jawlines were similar. The only difference was our eye color; mine was blue, while his were brown. He was an attractive man, which explained his tendency to cheat on my mother. And I resented him for it.

"Now that you've laid eyes on me, can you please leave? I've got work to attend to." I shift my gaze from my father and reopen the laptop, which Mila had inconveniently closed to garner my attention. I have a substantial workload and plan to stay late to finish it before tomorrow.

"I also came for a business discussion," my father reclines comfortably in the chair. Irritation creeps over me; I'm tempted to toss him out.

I've often contemplated outrageous things I'd do to my father whenever we cross paths, but thoughts of my mother always prevent me from acting recklessly. My mother is a kind-hearted soul who doesn't deserve him. She deserves someone better, given her unwavering love for him despite his infidelity and foolish behavior.

"I'm not interested," I assert.

"Really? I'm confident you'll find it intriguing once you learn who your competition might be," he smirks again.

I understand the implication behind that smirk and am genuinely curious about his cryptic words.

"What are you talking about?"

"The prestigious Business Achievement Award for this year will take place next month, and you're one of the nominees. Securing the title of Best Businessman of the Year would certainly attract more business propositions, especially since you're the wealthiest billionaire in New York…"

I was already aware of the fact, but I didn't know the exact date. I guess having him as a father isn't entirely useless – he directs most of his clients to me.

"But there's a snag," he adds.

"What's the issue?" I inquire.

"Damien has returned to New York, and I've heard his father intends to nominate him as well."

"But Damien hasn't set foot in New York for three years now; what's going on?" I exclaim.

The award means a great deal to me, and it's something I've eagerly anticipated. It's what I want to achieve before telling my father to go to hell.

Why has Damien returned now?

Damien is my arch-nemesis, and we share a dark history. The last straw was when he stole my girlfriend, Paige. Back then, I was still struggling in business, and Paige's departure left me shattered. I vowed to make Damien pay. I didn't blame Paige as much because I knew Damien's actions were deliberate, aimed at hurting me.

Damien and my father are the two individuals who have shaped me into the person I am today. Damien bullied me throughout high school, while my father's relentless discipline toughened me. It transformed me into someone with an unrelenting attitude and no visible emotions.

Damien will pay, as will my father.

"I have a plan, and I believe it will work. Damien and his father have considerable influence all across America. If we don't handle our strategy carefully, he might win the award."

I nod for him to continue. "I can't discuss it now, but I will fill you in when you come home this weekend."

"I'm not coming home," I assert.

He rises from his chair. "Well, your mother misses you, and she sends her regards."

My mother's name weakens me. It's been far too long since I've seen her. I avoid going home because I can't stand seeing my father or witnessing my mother's pitiable expression. She's declined my invitations to stay with me.

He strides confidently toward the door. "I'll be expecting you on Saturday, and if possible, bring Mila along. I'll have a word with her father before you arrive."

I remain silent as I watch him exit. He can try to coerce me into his plans, but marrying Mila is an absolute no. There's no doubt about it. I'd sooner head to hell than marry that woman.

"Goodbye, son," he says and slams the door behind him.