Chapter 29

I TOOK IN a deep breath.

"Hey dad," I tried my best to keep my voice level, to give my father this contained calmness, to hide the excitement in my voice. It was late, but I always made time for phone calls with my father.

For several heart raging moments, I only heard his breathing. Then his voice broke the silence.

"I don't know where to begin, Andrea."

It was soft, it didn't contain the usual friendliness - it was my father's voice, but not really. I liked to think my father was my best friend while growing up, before his work took precedence and I ultimately lost the paternal figure I respected. I gulped the lump forming in my throat.

"W - What's wrong?" I asked my father.

"I want you to come home, immediately."

I stilled. But I had a Physics test tomorrow. "Why?"

Then my father exploded. "Why?" He echoed incredulously. "Why don't you think hard, young lady. Try to recall the nonsense you've gotten up to."

Which nonsense? "I don't understand."

"Don't play dumb!" He near yelled. "I have so much work to do, yet I must put time aside to manage a misbehaving child. I don't know when you will mature, Andrea, but I pray it will be soon."

I felt the sting of tears before my throat seemed to constrict. I felt betrayed - all those hours slaving away behind textbooks, all the effort put into being polite, all attempts to water down a wilder side, I wasn't sure how someone could invalidate so much hard work, but my father did so with such simple words.

"What'd I do?" I managed to ask in a shaky voice.

"The bullying, the defamation, the five million dollar loan, Andrea!" My father burst out. "What in God's name were you doing with five million dollars?"

My gut fucking dropped. He knew. He knew everything.

"Um... it was for charity."

"Bullshit."

I clenched my jaws as I swiped the tears away. Gotta stay strong, if I don't stay strong for myself no one else would. I dived beneath the duvet on my bed, as though it could ever protect me from the ramifications of my own folly.

My father let out a truly deep sigh. "Come home. We'll talk, face to face."

"When?"

"Now."

Then he hung up.

✖

Cessna was the name of my father's private jet. She was a luxurious aircraft with a 50 pax capacity. Time flew by in the idlest possible manner... for five hours. I'd encountered many things in my encumbered, brief life.

But waiting for time to pass topped the list of worst experiences.

The staff knew. And I could feel the way they casted narrow eyed glances my way.

Father had an outburst - it resulted in the retrenchment of over two thousand staff. USA Today called it a 'rationalization' of one of the world's leading financial services corporation following the recent decline in US economy. But I knew my own father, he had a temper. And for him it had always been go big or go home.

The flight crew soon declared, ominously, that we would soon be landing at Philadelphia International Airport. I peeled at a hangnail. Every second that passed was one second less towards an inevitable death. Fear was me.

It'd been some three months since the last time I'd stepped on Philadelphian grounds. The West Coast had nothing on the East Coast, I don't care what people say about 'eternal summers' on the other end; Phily was home, and it will always be.

As I descended the jet, I caught sight of a staff handling my luggage. At which point, I realized I really would pay to be anyone but myself. I would trade all my yesterdays for the luxury of waiting for a luggage by the conveyor belt, the luxury of dragging time to hail a cab home.

Alas my father was many things, but he wasn't a patient man.

It was close to 6am now, but the airport was buzzing with life. My father had demanded I drag my ass home right after the surprise phone call. I sighed as I trailed the butler, some guy we called Karl.

A black BMW x5 awaited my arrival some paces from the main entrance. I wordlessly entered. The drive to our house was tense. I inhaled deep breaths to mentally prepare myself for the ordeal we all knew was coming.

Our house - if you could call that a house - looked so perfect on the outside. Sprawling greens and tall windows characterized the structure. It was sinfully grand for a house previously containing a teenager and her mother. It was mostly mother now. And of course the housekeepers.

I was dropped at the side entrance, it opened to the living hall, presumably where judgment day was going to be held at. I sighed, taking my time to exit the car. The horizon was yellow, the sunrise offsetting the eerie shadows extending from limbs of nearby trees.

I'd weighed my options in the past five hours. I could conjure an elaborate lie, something I seemed to be good at, or I could come clean and hope for the best. Shakespeare said it himself, 'No legacy is so rich as honesty'.

I could feel my father's presence before I entered the living hall. The air was cold.

True to my suspicions, they were there. They were both there. The space was gigantic, but my father's presence, combined with my mother's frigid disinterest clogged the space and made me want to retch. I gulped the nausea down.

What have I done what have I done what have I done.

"Father," I addressed the man. Almost a stranger now. "And mother."

"Take a seat."

I stepped back until the back of my knees collided with the cold leather of a sofa. Then I sat down, tucking both hands underneath my thighs.

"I'm sorry," I blurted before either adult could address the elephant in the room. "I'm sorry. I'm young and foolish, I have no idea how the real world works. I took that loan on a whim, I didn’t want to get expelled," I rushed out, feeling the sting of tears in both eyes. I swiped harshly. I wasn't this weak.

"I humbly submit to any kind of punishment you have in store for me, including confiscation of my possessions or, um, I don't know, any way you deem fit to teach me a lesson." I gulped.

My father held up a hand, effectively stopping me from continuing with my speech.

"This is a long overdue conversation," he said, first and foremost. "It was my fault, our fault," he glanced at mother, who in turn glanced at her manicured fingers.

"I was so busy, Andrea," my father said. I couldn't gage his emotions, couldn't decipher an ounce of emotion in his words. He seemed to have cooled down considerably from our phone call. Thing is, I couldn't be sure if it was a facade. A controlled calm preceding a storm. I forced myself to look into his eyes.

I got my eyes from my father, stunning blue eyes, they were. It was the only thing I inherited, definitely didn't get his dirty blond hair, pale skin, nor good judgment.

"I have a board meeting in three hours," he continued. "Yet I have to put time aside for you. When will you mature, Andrea?"

"I'm sorry," was all I could manage.

My father shook his head. "Words, Andrea. Such meaningless things. In contract law, verbal agreements almost never amount to anything binding."

I looked at my shoes. I was expecting a diatribe, not a... whatever this was. It made me feel even worse.

"Let's hear what you did, in your own words." Mother finally spoke.

I wasn't sure how much of the story they knew. But honesty, that was a thing I was willing to try.

"I was going to get expelled. I bribed the principal with five million dollars," I forced myself to look up, into my father's eyes. "I got the money from money lenders."

"Why did you almost get expelled?"

This, was something I was quite sure he didn't know. As far as I was concerned, it was between Marc, ex-Principal Walters and myself.

"I got accused of copying a test," I forced my eyes to gaze into my father's. Avoiding eye contact was synonymous with lying, I knew this, everyone knew this. I gulped the lump down my throat.

"Did you?"

"No." I said.

Movement from my mother caught my eyes. She crossed her arms, finally putting her nails away.

"What about the defamation lawsuit?"

Oh. That. That would complicate things.

"Uh," my breathing became labored, not sure if my parents could see this. "I don't really know. What happened?"

My father's stare was unwavering. "We were hoping you could explain."

I wriggled my toes, a gesture that did not provide solace. "I was, uh..." I wanted to crack my knuckles. "I was with bad kids, as you know."

My father nodded, didn't cut me off.

"I'm no longer in contact with them. But um, they - we, I mean we. We threatened this person with blackmail. We didn't mean to defame the person in any way. It was a warning - "

Father glanced at his watch.

"It was unintentional," I said weakly. I sounded fucking ridiculous in my ears. It probably sounded worse in my father's ears. I felt trapped, suffocated, I wanted to be anywhere but here, in this exact situation.

Finally, my father spoke.

"Do you know how hard I work to evade lawsuits," he bit out. With each word, there was more venom than before. It was a controlled calm, fuck. "Do you know how much libel claims cost? Do you even begin to understand the concept that money isn't free?"

"I'm - "

"I'm speaking. Don't interrupt me." His voice was soft, but harsh and icy cold against my skin. "Money comes far too easily for you, Andrea. It destroys the mind, it makes you reckless. You can't afford to be reckless in the real world."

My father stood up then. "I don't know what to do with you, Andrea. I blame myself for the poor upbringing. But there is no beauty in mourning spilt milk, we can only look forward and change for the better."

Mother stood up too. I, filled with uncertainty, mirrored them.

"I'm running short on time. I will pay for the loan and the lawsuit, along with any sum of money required to not have your face pasted on any form of media," my father sighed. It was such a disappointed, reluctant sigh. But he had a board meeting, and no matter what, not even the misbehaving heir of his wealth took precedence over work.

"But you will work to repay me every single cent of the damages," father said. "And until the day you graduate, you will only be given enough allowance for absolute necessities."

"The car," mother said under her breath.

"I'm taking the car too," my father said softly. "You will bike, or utilize public transportation if you so need to move around. The next car you own will be one you acquire with your hard earned money."

"...what?"

"I am going easy on you because I see, to an extent, myself in you. It's self preservation," father's smile was bitter, like the black coffee he drank. "But I want you to learn that some things, no amount of money can cover. Prevention is always better than cure."

"You're going easy on me?" I gaped.

"I don't have time, Andrea. I have an urgent meeting in 3 hours."

I don't think he took any effort to read the emotions on my face, the betrayal that made me knees weak. He was retreating from the living hall before I knew it.