Death Wish | Finn Wolfhard

001; love, mills

。＼｜／。

chapter one

love, mills

。／｜＼。

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"Welcome home Ms. L/N, congrats on the new business." Y/N's accountant greets with enthusiast, handing her over the documents and certificates for her return.

"It's good to be back, thank you." She smiled and shook the man's hand, flashing him a thin smile, while nervously bouncing her legs in discreet.

For the past ten years, Y/N had been working as an executive at a luxurious designer brand in France, living her wildest dreams. She considers herself lucky to be working with such sophisticated brands and famous designers at a young age.

But today marks her first month of being back home in California. She had earned the opportunity to run her very own line, bringing Y/N a little bit more of the crap load of cash that she'd already been earning in France.

She just couldn't say no, the opportunity was great and she knew she just had to take it, knowing that opportunities like this doesn't come around often.

Her heels tapped against the marble flooring of the halls, escorting herself back outside the parking lot, where her Rolls Royce vehicle have been waiting.

It's a preposterous car for anyone... let alone a woman in her early thirties. Gold on the outside, leather everywhere on the inside; It's practically a spaceship on wheels.

Reaching to open its right door, Y/N mentally cursed, reminding herself that she is back home and the driver's seat is at the other side of the vehicle.

Y/N finally got the seat right and got rid of the yellow beanie that sat on her head. Despite it's old age and being used almost everyday, it still looked neat rather than being scuffed. She always took such good care of this belonging, maybe because of the sentiment it held.

Driving out of the parking space, Y/N speaks a quick command to her car system, making it play her "road tunes" playlist. Y/N whisks in and out of traffic on Route 110... heading out of San Francisco and into Los Angeles.

She grew surprised at how quick the drive was, considering well that California traffic was bad when she left. 

Y/N finds herself driving through the highway, tapping her fingers along the music playing on the background.

And with one press of a button, her car's roof slowly folds itself upwards and its windows rolls down before it fully converts into an open space.

Y/N blindly reached for one of the compartments to snatch her Dior sunglasses and threw them over her E/C orbs.

Steering through the California heat under the tall palm trees towering the road, a smile creeps up Y/N's lips, feeling warmer, and more welcome home.

After a couple of minutes, she now drove under the San Francisco bridge, where her Royce can be spotted easily from above, weaving through traffic effortlessly.