Fighter

Twenty five

Your POV

A sense of tranquility takes over me as I walk through this chaotic city. Continuous traffic rushes through the streets: the honking of taxis and the way they drive interspersed; a wall of people who mingle around me desperate to reach their destinations. I take it all in as I walk slowly to the hotel after my meeting, and it occurs to me that I was one of those people until not too long ago: running around places, living a life in a continual hurry, but never really knowing where I was going. But something has changed.

The door to my suite opens and I look around. Really look. The suite is ornamental and large, completely unnecessary. I smile remembering Scarlett's comment the first time she was here: "Why does a person need three bathrooms?" I would know my end if I knew the answer. Like many things in my life I didn't stop to think about what I was doing. I acted as I had been taught, as I was expected to act. Even the swanky hotel room, because I could afford the best there was, so why expect anything less? Totally my father, a man with whom I hate comparisons, but even so every time I act without thinking I see my attitudes similar to his.

I call reception and inform them that I'm going to check out of the presidential suite and check in to a common room. It takes me five minutes to convince them that there's nothing wrong with the room, that it's just not necessary to occupy it anymore.

I make a few work calls and catch up with Tom again about the company. The office was quite busy on the last day with new clients. Apparently my mother's birthday party was the reason. The newspapers ran a picture of us dancing, the title of the report was forgiveness. A picture taken in a private moment characteristic of the human side that my father has many plans to explore.

I put away a few things I brought before heading to the gym and look around one last time as I wait for the elevator. How could I have thought this life was normal?

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My newfound peace quickly dissipates, being replaced by fury and tension the minute I walk into the gym.

- What are you doing here? - I ask through gritted teeth, demanding an answer and eyeing him suspiciously.

- Is that a way to say hello to your father? - Dressed in a three-piece suit, his perfect political smile positioned on his face slides over me like a snake coiling as it patiently waits for the best place to sink its venomous teeth.

- What. Are. You. Doing. Here? - Anger radiates from every word I say. I wasn't screaming, but some heads turn to look. These men can smell a fight.

A minute later Scarlett comes out of the back office and comes to the reception where we are. At first oblivious to the impasse, she approaches smiling.

- Hi! How was the meeting? - She sees my face, observes the visitor and turns to my father with a withered expression. - Ah, you are back.

- Yes. I can't seem to stay away.- He replies sarcastically.

- Has my father been here before?

- Your father? - Scarlett's eyes widen. She looks at him and then at me, perhaps looking for similarities. It's not hard to find. - He was here earlier today. - She looks confused.

- What are you doing here? - I repeat with clenched teeth.

- I think I should ask you the same question Y/N.

- What I do is none of your business. I thought we already cleared that up.

My father clears his throat and straightens his spine, standing taller.

- I need to speak with you privately. You don't return my calls.

- Then you're wasting your time. We have nothing to talk about... either on the phone or in person.