Manipulation

THIRD PERSON'S POV

"Father!" Jamal was shouting as soon as he got inside the house. He took his coat and hung it on the rack, heading to the living room. It was empty.

"Father!" Jamal yelled again, running up the stairs. He bumped into a servant who quickly apologized. But he barely heard her. "Where's my father?"

"Master Jamal," She bowed. "The master isn't home yet.".

"What?" Jamal was slightly surprised. "Where did he go?"

"Forgive me, Master Jamal. But I don't —"

"Son." Luther cut her off, joining them in the hallway. "Get out." He ordered in a hoarse voice and the servant bowed again and ran off.

"Father. Where did you go?" Jamal asked, taking notice of his weird outfit. It wasn't exactly weird, it was just different. Classy. A bad-boy all-black outfit trend.

His father never really wore classy attires. He had always been more of a traditional man. And he sure as hell has never drenched himself in this much cologne. Did he empty a whole bottle on himself?

"Out,