"I told you all I'd find a wife soon. Just give me a little time, would you?" Mike's voice broke the fallen silence after his parents shared the news.
"Michael, we gave you a year—an entire year—to bring home a suitable young lady and settle down with her. But in all this time, what have you accomplished? You've failed to do anything reasonable other than bringing back home those sluts you call your girlfriends," Mrs. Tyson began, her disbelief and disgust evident as she looked at her son, who seemed carefree about life.
"How can you even consider marrying those kinds of women? Michael, are you even thinking straight?" Mrs. Tyson asked, directing her frustration at her son, who sat there tapping his leg on the tiled floor, staring at both of his parents with an emotionless expression.
"That doesn't mean you both can force me to marry a total stranger, Mom!" Mike said, almost yelling, as it was beginning to get annoying.
"You will not bring any slut or whore into this family. Over the years, I've worked hard to build up this family's legacy and give it a good name you will not destroy all of this by bringing a whore into our family" Mr Tyson said in a calm voice with a dangerous glare at his son.
"I'm an adult, for crying out loud, Dad! You can't tell me who I can and cannot marry. It's my life!" Mike retorted angrily.
"You need to choose between marrying this responsible young lady or losing everything! And when I say everything, I mean every single thing, Michael" Mr. Tyson said coldly.
"What exactly do you want from me? Just tell me! I'm intelligent and hardworking. I've been managing the family businesses well, and I've always made you proud in our work and at every business engagement. I've followed in your footsteps perfectly. So tell me, what else do you want from me?" Mike yelled at his father, who remained unmoved by his son's outrage.
Mr. Tyson was a calm but ruthless man, feared by many. The only person who dared to disrespect or challenge him was his son, Michael.
"I want you to be a responsible family man and carry on the family name. That's what I want, and that's what we need from you at this point, Michael" Mr. Tyson replied calmly.
Mrs. Tyson sat quietly, her hands covering her face. Her head was bowed slightly as the conversation between her husband and son echoed in her mind.
"You're being ridiculous!" Mike shot back.
"It's that simple, Michael. Marry her, and you'll keep everything you already have. If you don't, you will lose it all. I promise you that," Mr. Tyson said as he called in his bodyguard, who grabbed his suitcase while the doorman held the door wide open for him as he left for his meeting.
"Fuck!" Mike yelled after his father in distress, hitting his fist against the wall in frustration, which drew the attention of almost all the domestic staff. Their chief cook, a young woman named Stella, who had a long-standing crush on the handsome billionaire and had once spent the night with him, quickly approached him and asked if he was okay. Without responding, he silently walked towards his room, his fist still clenched in pain.
"Get back to work at once!" Mrs. Tyson ordered her staff, who remained frozen in place, staring at Mike as he climbed the stairs to his room.
Soon, Mike was downstairs again, this time with his car keys and an angry look still plastered on his face.
"Where are you headed?" Mrs. Tyson asked as He walked past him without acknowledging her presence.
"Home," he replied, not even glancing her way.
Mrs. Tyson knew her son too well to ask any further questions, so she let him go. After all, it was Sunday, and he didn't need to be at work. They were supposed to spend some family time together before this news ruined everything. The thought made her sad.
One of the gatemen opened the gate to Tyson's secluded mansion as Mike drove out angrily. Mike Tyson owned a mansion located in a quiet estate far from his parents' home. Although he occasionally visited them, he preferred the space and peace of his own house. His favorite part of the mansion was his rage room.
When Mike arrived home, his domestic staff welcomed him. The doors were wide open, inviting him inside, and they closed behind him as he entered. Without acknowledging the various greetings from his staff, he quickly jogged up to his rage room.
As soon as he entered, he plugged in his earphones and began screaming at the top of his lungs, completely unbothered, since the room was soundproof.
To him, the part that upset him the most wasn't even the fact that his dad wanted him to marry a stranger. Women had always been the least of his problems; he had them right where he wanted them. He thought his supposed new wife would be one of those girls who had a big crush on him and were completely devoted to him, so maybe it wasn't that serious, and perhaps it could go well. Or, if that didn't work, he could always play one of those cruel games he enjoyed playing with girls just for fun. A smirk spread across his face at the thought.
What upset him the most was how his father always insisted that things be done his way. He never really cared about what Mike wanted or how he felt, It has always been about what he wanted for Mike. All Mike's life he just felt like a puppet that was being controlled by his dad and just thinking about it made him feel hurt and angry at the same time. In his frustration, he grabbed his baseball bat and started to hit a cabinet in his rage room. He struck it repeatedly until he eventually grew tired.