This grand house was like my chest: vast, hollow, empty. Or worse—filled with nothing but room for hatred and resentment.
My breath snagged as rage boiled inside.
Calm the fuck down.
And be quiet!
But the voices grew louder, my dad’s yell echoing against the walls. I noticed the changes as I scanned the place: new staff, unfamiliar faces, and more cameras than before.
I fixed my eyes on him as he raged on. “What is it you want to say? I came back only because Zaeem asked me.” I cut in, flicked my gaze away.
My face betrayed the life of a normal son—no joy, no warmth, no filial bond. Where most children would embrace a parent after years apart, tears and smiles mingling, I stood with nothing butdisgust.
My dad’s face reddened further, veins straining at his neck as his hand lifted, “You’re getting more and more insolent, you fucking—” He was ready to strike. But then he saw my expression.
Nothing.
Because there was nothing left to give.
My whole body tensed, fists clenched—yet my eyes remained dead on him.
He froze, his hand suspended mid-air. We stared at each other for a long, heavy moment. Then he let out a long breath, lowering his hand. His voice, when it came again, was quieter. “How long will you carry on like this? You and your brother have driven me up the wall.” He rolled his neck. “Tell your brother to come to Indonesia as well. How far will he ruin himself in there, huh?!” He turned away and dropped into the sofa, loosening his shirt collar, pouring vodka into a lowball glass.
The old man made the same gesture years ago, when he last came to London to see my brother and me. Always the same shit.
“How is your brother?” he asked again, swirling his glass and eyes fixed forward. “He’s not doing anything to disgrace me or this companyagain, is he?” He finally looked at me, with those sharp eyes
I couldn’t help; a laugh slipped out, one corner of my mouth lifting. “You only ask him? Perhaps I might do something shameful too. Don’t I have something thatcouldmortify you, too, Dad?”
“Drop that sarcasm,” he snapped, his words landing like a warning.
“And drop that paranoia,” I spat, “that constant exaggeration as though the world spins only for you.” Ireturned the gesture, looking him up and down. “Take Grandpa, for instance, Dad. He’s far greater in every respect, yet he doesn’t live in fear of being disgraced by his grandchildren.” I scoffed. “If that’s the measure, then you’re not half as great as you think you are.”
My fists clenched tighter.
Hold it. Breathe.
His glass slammed down onto the table, vodka splashing over the glass surface. “I’ve fought tooth and nail to protect this company’s name, and neither you nor your brother will ruin it with childish rebellion! You’re both far too old for hormonal tantrums!”
Hormones?
Tantrums?
The company’s name?
This fucking—
I laughed. Laughed at the words spilling from his mouth. If it weren’t for Zaeem, I wouldn’t have been here. Otherwise, I might already be behind bars for strangling this old man.
He hadn’t changed, huh?
Still so blind that the real problem was him, that he was the one who started all this slow destruction.
How the fuck did Zaeem endure him? I would never understand.
I shook my head to keep myself from snapping. I could still keep a tight rein on myself as long as I held the reins. My voice dropped. “What do you want with me?”
Fucking say what you want.
