George is the son to parents that own a multi-million dollar eco friendly car company. Cars have never been George's favorite subject. He knows which are the most expensive on the market because of his father but he's never understood the hype.
Aft...
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"Trying hard not to fall, on the way home." WILD Troye Sivan
"Hey, Sampson," George stood out of the rain beneath the uptown office awning. "My key card won't work. Have you guy's done an update and skipped me again?"
"No, sir." Sampson's voice was curt instead of its routine blithely tone. "You've been disregarded from the company."
George raised a brow, "what? Who made that call?"
"The president of the company, sir."
"My father?"
"Yes, sir," Sampson sighed. "He said your position was terminated as of yesterday. Along with your access to account yours and the company's."
"Wait wait," George ground out. "Are you telling me he froze my accounts! He can't do that it is my money!"
"I was told if you had objections to redirect you to your father. Would you like me to-"
"Yes," George cut in. "Thank you, Sampson."
"Of course. And I'm sorry, George."
The dial tone chimed three rounds before George's call was accepted. His father read halfway through his mundane company sentence opener before George cut him off.
"That's my money," he hissed. "You have no power to freeze my account."
Abandoning the awning he gripped his keys and dashed for his car.
"I do," his father said monotoned and well-rehearsed. "You're account is branched off of the family's in a family bank. I can do whatever I want with mymoney, after all, that is what you've been living off of. My money."
George slammed his door with an abrupt wack, "it is my money! I've worked for it every day in that fucking office! In this company!"
"Crass language will never get you anywhere in life, George." His father's half-assed idea of parenting was becoming George's breaking point. Avoiding the problem to "parent" on bad language was still fucking avoidance. Manipulation at its finest. "I paid your rent for last month, but until then, I suggest you find somewhere else to reside."
"What do you want?" Defeated and vexed George gripped his steering wheel.
"Marry Genevieve," he said evenly. "Live with us until the wedding day then move to the Hamptons with her. To Europe. I do not care."
"And if I refuse?"
"Well," his father hummed. "Where do you go when we can't get ahold of you? Hopefully nowhere illegal."
George paled. Bile rose in his gut. The immediate sharp and striking fear danced up his spinal cord and choked his breaths. His father wasn't the type to let things go that easily. You never get to the top without getting your hands dirty. George had seen him ruin lives to better his own, but he never thought he'd be in that line of fire. And worse he feared for his new friends.
