I pulled up to the house just as the last bit of sunlight disappeared.
The gate opened automatically.
I parked and stepped out, slamming the car door a little harder than necessary.
I was tired.
Tired of everything.
I walked through the main door, kicking my shoes off lazily.
All I wanted was to crash on my bed, maybe lock the door, drown out the world for a while.
But of course, nothing ever goes that easy in this house.
"Vincent."
I froze mid-step.
The voice came from the dining room.
I turned my head slightly and saw him my old man sitting at the huge polished table, a plate of expensive steak in front of him.
Across from him, his trophy wife Lena sat, smiling like she was auditioning for a toothpaste ad.
"Come. Sit," my father said, more like an order than a suggestion.
I hesitated. My body screamed no.
But fighting him would only drag this out longer.
I sighed heavily and dragged myself to the table.
I sat down at the farthest chair I could find, slouching lazily, just to piss him off a little.
"You've been out all day," he said, cutting his steak precisely, like even his dinner needed to obey him.
"Didn't think it was necessary to inform your family where you were?"
I bit back a laugh. Family.
Right.
The maid scurried over and played or steak, her eyes darting nervously between the three of us like she could feel the storm brewing.
"I was handling my business," I said.
"And losing your car and phone is business now?" he snapped.
Lena placed a fake-sympathetic hand on his arm.
"Come on, honey. Boys will be boys," she said sweetly, like she was some goddamn sitcom mom.
How the hell did he even know my car and phone were stolen? I thought bitterly.
Well, it's Ryan Aston he's got eyes everywhere.
Always watching, always stalking my life like it's some kind of sick hobby.
I rolled my eyes and sipped my water.
My dad didn't even look at her. His eyes stayed locked on me.
"You look like hell," he said , slicing into his steak.
"Thanks," I muttered, grabbing the nearest glass of water and taking a long drink.
"You missed the meeting this morning," he added, voice low and sharp.
I shrugged. "Didn't know we had one."
Lena chimed in sweetly. "Vincent,your father hoped you'd show some... responsibility."
I scoffed under my breath.
Responsibility. Right.
Coming from the man who slept with women half his age and called it love.
I pushed my food around the plate without touching it.
"What's the big deal?" I said finally. "You want me to play perfect son at breakfast now too?"
My father's knife scraped harshly against his plate.
"You think this life you're living will last forever?" he said. "You think money just falls from the sky because your last name is Aston?"
"It has so far," I said, flashing a fake smile.
Lena coughed awkwardly into her napkin, but I saw the smirk she was hiding.
My father's jaw tightened. He leaned forward, resting his elbows on the table.
"You've had enough freedom," he said, wiping his mouth neatly with a napkin. "Enough indulgence."
He leaned forward.
"It's time you started acting like an Aston."
I laughed under my breath.
"If this is what being an Aston looks like," I said, waving vaguely between him and Lena, "then I'm good, thanks."
Lena gave a nervous little laugh like she wasn't sure if she should be offended.
My father's face darkened.
"You will be marrying Bianca Valen next month."
Silence dropped over the table.
Lena froze, fork halfway to her mouth.
Even the maid stopped moving for a second.
I blinked.
Once.
Twice.
Waiting for the joke.
It didn't come.
"You're out of your mind," I said.
"It's already arranged," he said. "You'll announce it at her father's gala next week."
I pushed back from the table, the chair screeching loudly against the marble floor.
"You're not arranging my damn life like you arrange your business deals," I said, my voice low but shaking with fury.
"You're my son," he yelled. "You will do what's required of you."
Lena looked between us like she wanted to disappear into the table.
"I'm done here," I muttered, standing up.
"Sit down," he barked.
I didn't.
I stood up fully grabbing my car keys.
"Find yourself another puppet," I said. "I'm not playing this game."
I turned and stormed off toward the staircase.
Behind me, his voice called out..
"You either accept your role, Vincent… or you lose everything."
I didn't answer.
I just kept walking, feeling the anger thudding in my chest louder than my heartbeat.
Marry Bianca Valen?
Sell my soul to my old man's empire?
Not a chance.
I was done.
Done playing this pathetic game.
It was high time I got out of this house. I was twenty-four for god's sake old enough to live my own damn life without Rey Aston breathing down my neck.
I grabbed whatever essentials I could find, tossing them into the bag without a second thought.
Everything about this house disgusted me now.
The walls, the floors, even the air felt toxic.
I still couldn't believe it, my so-called father, trying to sell me off like some piece of property to his business partner's daughter.
Bianca.
God, just the thought of her made my skin crawl.
The same spoiled brat who fired a driver because he wore the "wrong shade" of pink she ordered.
The same psychopath who dared a homeless guy to jump into a freaking lake for a YouTube prank.
And that's the girl he wanted me to marry?
Yeah, not happening. I'd rather set myself on fire.