In the midst of her family's best kept secret being plastered amongst the tabloids, Astoria Damaris came to realize 3 things that she quickly grew to resent.
The first being that London's unruly weather has made it rather difficult to wear the new...
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D.
D for Darius.
D for Dad.
My father had made it abundantly clear from the moment I could speak that calling him dad was strictly forbidden. It was instilled early in my youth that Darius King's word is law, yet, I still leapt at any opportunity to defy him.
So I called him dad. And I made sure he knew it was deliberate, not just some habit that I couldn't drop or something that had been said in passing— I wanted to watch his anger slowly stir at the notion of his fore-most heir being the only one capable of defying him. The only one capable of going toe-to-toe with him.
I was five when that anger first became exorbitant, and finally overflowed. To my dismay, it came barrelling towards me like an undying tsunami.
It wasn't even intentional. Or meant to piss him off.
My father had overheard me tell Ryder on the phone that I couldn't go because my dad was making me stay home with the tutors. The same tutors that my father paid sparingly to drill law rules, terms, and facts into my head. I didn't even realize that he had overheard me until I ended up with my first ever broken nose.
One in which he refused to let my mother, or any medical professional, try to heal me until after 48 hours— Because that's how long preliminary hearings usually last, and my tutors were covering preliminary hearings the day I made that phonecall to Ryder.
He did it to teach me a lesson, and I haven't called him that fickle little title since.
A dry scoff sounds from my little sister, bringing my attention away from my father's lovely text messages. Her eyebrows are scrunched up, her hazel eyes trained on the phone in her hand.
"What the fuck?"
The rest of her face bunches up in utter disbelief, and with her big features, each of her expressions end up looking more comical. The contrast between the two of us is stark— Light brown hair, big hazel eyes, and a smile that is far too uncommon in the King family. Her Eurasian features have purged her of any physical similarities to my father, and that is a gift that I envy dearly.
I had always wanted a sibling. Being a King is lonely, but my father didn't believe in spares. His second wife was disheartened at that fact, and she spent the entire 6 months of their marriage begging him to reconsider. He eventually grew bored of her, and when he finally shoved divorce papers in her face, I wasn't too torn up about it.
Admittedly, I'm glad my father didn't have a child with Camille. I was never particularly fond of her, or her... raunchy lifestyle.
