𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐀𝐜𝐭 𝐨𝐟 𝐄𝐯𝐢𝐥 ✔️

♡ Chapter 13 ♡

The sound of the clock ticking sounds louder to me than the sound of the voices around me.

Tick.

Tick.

Tick.

"Of course she would!" my dad's voice snaps me out of my trance, as his arm wraps around me.

"Um, what?" I ask, nearly stuttering as I came back to reality. 

We were having dinner at a restaurant that was so expensive, the bill alone would be more than most people's rent. We were eating with this guy from Italy, who my dad is trying to impress so that he will do business with him. I could only listen to my dad boast about all his accomplishments for so long. 

So for the entire dinner, it's been fake smiles and laughs. While I sat there, poking at my food, stuck with one guy on my mind.

"He has invited us to a party tomorrow," my dad tells me. "And he asked if you would like to go."

I force a smile at him, "Oh, of course I'll be there."

"That's wonderful to hear. It's a party meant for charity, so if you would like to donate, please feel free," the white-haired man smiled at me from across the table.

"Oh, my sweet Azalea definitely will," he squeezed my arm.

His sweet Azalea.

Although what he said wasn't rude, it still bothered me. I started questioning if I was his sweet Azalea because I always did everything I was told blindly, or because of who I actually am. I've been listening to him blindly for my entire life. Smiling when he wants me to, doing everything he asks. All because I thought he was somebody else.

I still have nightmares about that child dying, sometimes. But my father doesn't miss a blink of sleep.

"Love to hear it!" the guy across from us, Pierre I think his name was, exclaimed. "You know, Azalea, I have a son around your age that'll be there. Maybe you two will hit it off."

"Oh, I'm sure they will," my dad spoke for me.

He was giving me a look. It said, be nice to his son tomorrow, so that he'll do business with me.

I forced a fake smile.

Whatever my dad wants. Like always.

«────── « ⋅ʚ♡ɞ⋅ » ──────»

Elegant music reaches my ears as I enter with my parents.

I wore a light blue dress, and had half of my blonde hair up.

The party was filled with elite looking people. Everything looked very professional. Sometimes I found it intimidating.

A booth with red balloons sits at the entrance. It reads, 'Donate to help send a child to school.'

My dad, is his suit and tie, teaches the table before I do. He bends over, writing a check before putting it on top of the stack of money.

He clicks his pen and puts it back in his pocket.

He and my mom enter together, and then I stop at the booth to donate. I pull 5 $100 dollar bills out of my purse, and put it on top of my dads check.

But I pause when I do. I look at his check and scoff bitterly.

He donated 50 dollars.