Engaged To The Tycoon

Offer Subject to Bargaining "Be on the lookout, because I'm coming right up!" I yelled as I made my way to the front door, brushing the remainder of the clay off of my hands as I went. I had been working with clay earlier. Someone on the outside was being extremely OCD with my doorknocker, and if they didn't stop, Mrs. Lloyd from the house next door was going to leave another note shoved in the doorjamb, which would bring the total number of notes left this month to seven. If they didn't stop, Mrs. Lloyd from the house next door was going to leave another note shoved in the doorjamb. It had only been fifteen days since the previous month had begun. I was so angry that I ripped the door from its hinges and opened it. “What?” My finger was literally just about to go to the trigger. After that, I had trouble getting a good breath. Julian Wayne, who is both my biological and nominal father, was there and was standing in the hallway. He is the man who founded Onyx Capital, a venture capital firm that manages multiple millions of dollars, and he is also my biological and nominal father. He referred to her as Lucy. I confronted him by slamming the door in his face in an effort to get his attention. That was the first mistake I made at any point. But hindsight is 20/20, and looking back at the situation, I can see that what I should have done was killed him by beating him to death with the old fire extinguisher that was sitting across the hall from where we were. Since it had been there ever since I moved in almost a year ago, it gave the impression that it was a permanent fixture. My father was beating on the doorknocker of my studio apartment, and I made the decision not to carry out the act of p*******e that I had originally intended. Instead, I began very calmly searching for my phone as my father was pounding on the doorknocker. It took me a while, but I was ultimately able to locate it on top of a pile of library books that had been overdue during the term of the president that came before this one. During that period, they had also been serving a secondary purpose by acting as a bedside table next to my futon. Being an artist who was struggling to make ends meet left me with little choice but to embrace whatever was commercially viable. After turning on my phone, the first thing I did was dial my therapist's number. After some time, my father began using his fist to knock on doors instead of his hand. “Lucy? "Could you, Lucy?" While the phone continued to ring, I couldn't help but mutter the phrase "Shut up, shut up, shut up" over and over again. My heart leaped for joy when I heard the click on the other end of the line, but it immediately sank to its knees when the prerecorded voice of my therapist informed me that she was out of the office at the moment, but that she was very sorry, blah blah blah, strove to serve her blah, leave your blah and blah blah and she would blah blah blah and she would beep. “s**t!” I let out a hiss, and the only thing that kept me from slamming the phone against the wall was a searing knowledge of how much the damn phone was worth. I let out the hiss. "Lucy, this is an important talk for us to have!" The narrow plank of wood that separated my father and I barely succeeded in muffling his voice, as is common in the city of london . "Go away!" While I was doing this, I yelled and stomped my way back to my sculpture. As I stared at it, I felt helpless and hopeless. I was in the process of creating something when all of a sudden I couldn't recall what it was that I was constructing. I was moving around in a frenzied manner, gathering objects, and rearranging them while thinking, in a delirious state, that it was high time that I reorganized my workstation. I was feverishly shuffling around. Anything, absolutely anything to take my mind off the fact that my jerk of a father was standing outside my apartment. I was desperate to avoid focusing on the situation. It had been almost four years since our last encounter. In point of fact, for the entirety of my upbringing, I had a pretty limited amount of interaction with him. He mistook me for the head housekeeper's niece when I was just seven years old and formed the mistaken assumption that I was her niece. This demonstrates what an excellent parent he was for his children. “Lucy...” My jaw became clenched as a result of it. "Leave this place at once! I do not wish to engage in dialogue with you! "Lucy, it's your mother!" the person on the other end of the line exclaimed. When I suddenly stopped moving, I was in the process of restructuring some of the tools that I had built myself. I had been doing this for a while. Mom. How did she rate her mood? I spoke with her not even a week ago, on the second of this week. Back then, she did not experience any difficulties at all. I gnawed on the meat that was situated on the inside of my cheek. The fact that so much could happen in such a short amount of time astounded me. My decision to open the door was a poor one and I immediately regret it. I knew better. My therapist had taught me everything I needed to know about setting boundaries with my family, and it was advice that I could not only not afford but also not afford to ignore. I could not afford to ignore it because it was advice that I could not afford to ignore. It appeared from what she said that she would prefer a formal international boundary in the first place. But I hadn't listened, had I? And at this point, my dad arrived. Having a chat about Mom. Image from the caption card Instructional Playing Cards Suitable for Students of Any Age Before opening the door, I paused for a few seconds to collect my thoughts and gather my composure. After a little pause in the middle of a pound, my grandfather started. "And Mom? Why Don't You Ask Her? I demanded. His face instantly transformed into one of elation at the realization. "There's a need for communication," he stated. I suggested that we have our conversation here, and he was open to the idea. "And you can make it quick." If I had given a directive that was as forceful and ruthless as that one, when I was younger, Dad would have been quite proud of me. Instead, to my utter surprise, he started crying out of nowhere. I was completely taken aback. I couldn't take my eyes off of him. My memories did not include any instances in which I saw my father cry. If you had asked me about it five minutes ago, I would have told you that it was impossible for him to be capable of doing that since reptiles are unable to cry. In point of fact, I would have told you that it was impossible for him to be capable of doing that. The high rate of my heartbeat was accompanied by trembling as I stood on the threshold of the doorway. He was, without a doubt, a useless piece of rubbish, but he was also my useless piece of garbage father. After paying him some attention, I couldn't help but observe that he didn't exactly have a remarkable appearance. After all, he was the recipient of my attention. His normally perfectly coiffed hair was a tangled mess, and the incredibly costly Italian suit he was wearing appeared as like he had slept in it due to the amount of wrinkles it had acquired. His hair was a tangled mess as well. Even on him, it looked like it would be too big to wear, so it came as a surprise when we found out that he had lost some weight. Julian Wayne had been a collegiate football standout in the past, and since then he had turned into a bit of a wild man. He had a history of being a powerful man. Now he appeared to be a man who was wearing the skin of my father, which was wrapped over a skeletal frame that I was unable to identify. However, he was not my father. When I looked over my shoulder at the work that was still unfinished, I discovered that I needed to take a moment to pause. My dad was there when I was at my most vulnerable, and he saw it all. Another error in judgment. He made the most of the situation. "May I have Lucy, please? This cannot continue in this manner. I could sense shame and guilt creeping up on me. I had a hunch about it. Despite this, I realized that I was giving in to his demands, just as I always done in the past. because I wanted his love more than anything in the world, I needed him to love me. Because I was dependent on getting his favor. It would appear that only being aware of this was not sufficient to stop it from happening. "Fine," I said. After leaving the house, I returned inside to retrieve my pocketbook and keys, which had been left on the floor near to the exit. Let's get this done and get it out of the way so we can move on. I was too chicken to take him to Rick's or Shade's Cafe, so I took him to the local coffee chain, which was one of my least favorite locations. I did this since the coffee chain was one of the few places open. I stayed away from the regions since I didn't want his presence to ruin the parts of the place that I truly liked being in.