chapter 𝐨𝐧𝐞.

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ˢᵖᵒʳᵃᵈⁱᶜ




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𝐘𝐨𝐮 𝐚𝐝𝐦𝐢𝐫𝐞𝐝 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫𝐬𝐞𝐥𝐟 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐚 𝐦𝐨𝐦𝐞𝐧𝐭.

Placing the hairbrush down on the vanity, you stood up with a smile, stepping into your walk-in closet. You sat at your desk where the large blocky computer was, opening up 'Y/N's Wardrobe' system. You hit the browse button, where a cute, cropped blazer appeared, with a black pleated skirt below it formed. You pressed the 'Dress Me' button, but the computer beeped loudly, and you bit your lip with a scowl at the rude banner, 'Mis-Match!'

You re-did the matching again, and you nodded your head in victory at the choice. You had made the very stylish decision to where a short maroon jumper with fur lining, a mini black skirt, platform black heels, a beret, and some usual accessories, as well as your Prada purse.

 You had made the very stylish decision to where a short maroon jumper with fur lining, a mini black skirt, platform black heels, a beret, and some usual accessories, as well as your Prada purse

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Daddy's a neurosurgeon. That's like, the highest paying type of surgeon. And daddy is so good, he gets paid $400 an hour to look at someone's brain. Which is way gross. 

He checks and stabilizes my mental health for free cause I'm his daughter.

"Daddy!" you called with a grin.

"Y/N, please, don't start with the juice again," he sighed. 

You see, my daddy may be in the medical field, but for a doctor, his health is totes going downhill.

"Daddy, you need your Vitamin C," you reasoned. 

"Where's my briefcase?" he asked, ignoring your valid argument.

"It's been a couple months now, so I said we'd go out to Malibu."

"Don't tell me those braindead lowlifes have been calling again?"

"They are your parents." You handed him his keys. "Don't try sneaking out of the office."

"Oh, we're going to the Horowitz' for dinner," he stated, turning back to you.

𝙨𝙥𝙤𝙧𝙖𝙙𝙞𝙘 ; cluelessWhere stories live. Discover now