Chapter 4 — Control Begins.
1430 Words
Tiana’s POV:
Morning came with consequences.
Not loud ones.
Not dramatic ones.
Just the quiet, annoying kind that sat in your head and refused to leave.
I groaned softly, pulling the blanket over my face as the sunlight forced its way into my room like it had something to prove.
“…God.”
My head throbbed slightly but not enough to be unbearable, just enough to remind me of everything I did last night.
Driving.
The crash.
Him.
I froze for a second under the covers.
Then immediately groaned again.
“Nope.”
I wasn’t doing this.
I wasn’t thinking about it.
I wasn’t replaying it.
It happened.
It was over.
Done.
I pushed the blanket off and sat up slowly, rubbing my face as I tried to shake the lingering fog in my head.
“You’re fine.” I muttered to myself.
And I was.
Physically.
Mentally?
Debatable.
I got out of bed, stretching slightly before heading toward my mirror. My reflection stared back at me, unimpressed.
“You look like you made bad decisions." I said flatly.
I paused.
“…We’re not discussing that.”
I turned away, grabbing something random to wear before heading out of my room.
The house was quiet.
Too quiet.
Which was already a bad sign.
My parents weren’t usually this silent in the morning unless something was—
“Miss Tiana.”
I stopped slightly, turning toward the voice.
One of the staff stood near the hallway, composed as usual.
“What?”
“Your father asked to see you in his office.”
There it was.
Of course.
I exhaled slowly, already annoyed. “Now?”
“Yes.”
I nodded once. “…Fine.”
Of course it was now.
I walked down the hallway, my steps slower than usual—not because I was nervous, but because I already knew this was going to be irritating.
Very irritating.
I reached the door and didn’t bother knocking.
I opened it and stepped in.
My father sat behind his desk, exactly where he always was. Neat. Composed. Controlled.
Like nothing ever shook him.
He looked up when I entered.
“Tiana.”
“Dad.”
I didn’t sit.
I stayed where I was, arms loosely crossed, waiting.
Because I knew this wasn’t going to be casual.
And what made it worse—
he looked calm.
Too calm.
No immediate lecture.
No raised voice.
No visible frustration.
That alone made me suspicious.
“And why am I here?” I asked.
“Sit." he replied simply.
A pause.
"I'm fine."
Then he gestured to the chair in front of him. “Sit.”
I didn’t move.
“i said I’m fine.”
Another pause.
He didn’t insist.
Didn’t argue.
Just watched me for a second before continuing.
“That incident last night.” he said calmly.
I rolled my eyes slightly. “If this is about the car—”
“It’s not just about the car.”
I exhaled sharply, looking away for a second. “I’m fine. No one died. It’s handled.”
“That’s not the point.”
“It never is with you.”
Silence.
“You’ve been getting more reckless.”
I scoffed. “Here we go again.”
“This is not a joke, Tiana.”
“I didn’t say it was.”
“Then start acting like it isn’t.”
I straightened slightly, irritation building. “I am acting like it isn’t. You’re the one making it a big deal.”
He didn’t react.
Didn’t raise his voice.
Didn’t even sigh.
And somehow, that made it worse.
Because now it didn’t feel like an argument.
It felt like something else.
Something… controlled.
Deliberate.
“I’ve made a decision.” he said.
I paused.
“…What?”
His gaze remained steady.
“You’ll have a driver.”
I blinked.
“…Excuse you?”
“And a bodyguard.”
I stared at him.
For a second, I thought I heard wrong.
Then I laughed.
Short.
Sharp.
“You’re joking.”
“I’m not.”
The laughter faded immediately.
“No,” I said, shaking my head. “No, that’s not happening.”
“It is.”
I stepped forward slightly. “I don’t need a driver.”
“You do.”
“I can drive myself.”
“You’ve proven that you can’t be trusted to do so responsibly.”
My jaw tightened. “That was one mistake.”
“Mistakes don't happen more than once.”
I froze slightly.
“…What?”
“You’ve had multiple warnings,” he continued calmly. “You chose to ignore them.”
I let out a disbelieving laugh. “So your solution is to babysit me?”
“It’s to ensure your safety.”
“I don’t need protection.”
“You do.”
“No, I don’t.”
“Yes, you do.”
I ran a hand through my hair, pacing slightly now. “This is exactly what I mean. You don’t listen. You just decide things and expect me to accept them.”
“This is not up for discussion.”
I stopped.
Turned to look at him.
“…What?”
“I’ve already arranged everything.”
Something in my chest tightened.
“You already—?” I cut myself off, shaking my head.
“No. No, you don’t get to do that.”
“I already did.”
I stared at him, my frustration rising into something sharper.
“This is my life.”
“And I’m responsible for it.”
“No, you’re controlling it.”
“I’m protecting you.”
“I don’t need protecting!”
“You do.”
“From what?” I demanded. “Driving? Living? Making my own decisions?”
“From yourself.”
That hit harder than it should have.
I paused.
Just for a second.
Then scoffed, covering it quickly. “Wow. That’s dramatic.”
“It’s accurate.”
I shook my head, stepping back. “You don’t trust me.”
“I don’t trust your judgment.”
“That’s the same thing.”
“No, it isn’t.”
“It is to me.”
A pause.
Heavy.
Tense.
I folded my arms tightly. “I’m not doing this.”
“You don’t have a choice.”
I let out a short, disbelieving laugh. “I always have a choice.”
“Not this time.”
Silence.
The words sat there.
Final.
Unmovable.
And I hated that.
I hated how calm he was.
How certain.
How this didn’t even feel like a conversation anymore.
It felt like a decision that had already been made.
“…You’re unbelievable, dad” I muttered.
“You’ll adjust.”
“I won’t.”
“You will.”
I stared at him, searching for something, anything that looked like hesitation.
There was none.
Just control.
Always control.
I shook my head slowly. “You know what? Fine. Get me a driver. Get me ten bodyguards. Turn the house into a prison while you’re at it.”
“This isn’t punishment.”
“It feels like one.”
“It’s necessary.”
“For you.”
“For you.”
I let out a frustrated breath, running my hands over my face. “I can’t deal with this right now.”
“You don’t need to deal with it. You just need to accept it.”
I dropped my hands, staring at him. “That’s not how this works.”
“It is now.”
Another pause.
Longer.
He wasn’t backing down.
He wasn’t even trying to argue anymore.
Because in his mind, it was already done.
I swallowed the rest of what I wanted to say.
Because what was the point?
He wasn’t listening.
He never did.
“…You’re impossible." I said finally.
No response.
Of course.
I turned toward the door, already done with the conversation.
Done with him.
Done with this.
I reached for the handle and pulled it open.
“Where are you going?” he asked.
I didn’t turn back.
“Away from this conversation.”
“You’re not finished.”
“That's your cross to carry."
I stepped out, slamming the door harder than necessary behind me.
The sound echoed through the hallway.
Good.
Let it.
I walked away quickly, my chest tight, my mind racing with everything I didn’t say.
Everything I couldn’t say.
Everything he wouldn’t hear.
Control.
That’s all this was.
Control.
And I hated control.
Behind me, the door remained closed.
But his voice carried through anyway.
Calm.
Steady.
Certain.
“He starts tomorrow.”
- Writer
