Mocha In Love

Mocha

WARNING: MULTIPLE POV SWITCH

My names Mocha Michaels, a eighteen years old girl. The pretty-nerd. That's what my friends tell me. My best friend told me I could at this point be considered Einstein's daughter and everyone would agree. Her name is Marcie, the best person on Earth.

Even though, I've never stopped to embrace myself, my nerdy-side. I grew up very...rich but always felt alone. I thought money buys happiness?  That's all I heard growing up.

My father's name is Edward Michaels, a fifty five years old white man with a cold heart and a blank face. He's a workaholic, a big time rich man that plays a role as the CEO of the biggest company in England, London.  Yes, I'm half white, but I look more black than white. Taking more of mothers looks.

Edward Michaels is practically known worldwide. And I hated it.

He walked around like he owned the world. Father is a good man, even though he struggles to show it. He truly is one. I've always looked at him as a role model. One day, I want to make him proud. I want him to finally say that he is proud of me...but sadly that'll  have to wait.

And with the career field I'm chasing, it looks like a never.

Father favoured my older sister more, Malia Michaels. She was beautiful, instead she had beautiful straight long hair, her face was smooth and spotless, not like me who had unnecessary birthmarks dotting my nose and cheek.

She was again a few shades lighter than I am, not that I'm insecure about my skin colour, I loved being brown skin...well at times I wish I was what father preferred.

Malia is stunning to the bone, she majored  in business and Data sciences a year ago and is currently helping father with the littlest work in his company. For me, it was different. I loved drawing, painting, and reading non-stop books to no end. I also liked maths.

Father used to call me useless when I was younger, I remember how he used to make me cry. Mother was always there to lend me a shoulder. He still makes me cry till this day but it's okay now, because he doesn't do it as often anymore. I deserved it anyway, I never was what he wanted me to be. I'm never going to be what he wants either way and I am still learning to accept that.

Father was never like this to me at first, I remember when I was younger....he'd tell me I'm his little angel. That I'm just as important to him as Malia is. I was about five back then and Malia was eleven. Malia and I had the best childhood, our parents always made time for us even though they were most of the time busy with work, it came to a point where they'll even skip meetings just to be with us.

That was my childhood years though, when I turned thirteen everything changed for me. Not for the better at all, because I lost a father and a sister. I never understood what I did to have them hate me so much. But even though I didn't know the reason, I was always ready to make up for whatever mistake I've made.

A knock came from my door, before it was opened. Tilda peeked inside my bedroom and her eyes looked around for me. When we met eyes, she smiled the brightest. "Hey, Mocha. You good?" She asked, fully getting in. She held the knord and patted down her maid uniform.

"Hi, yes I am. Is anything wrong?"

"No. I just came to tell you that dinner is in 5." She smiles, nodding at me softly. "Don't be late this time. You know how your father gets." She reminded me of father's hate for late comers.

This leads me back to the time when I overheard father and mother arguing because father decided to fire one of his employees just because he arrived a minute late to a meeting held by important 'investors' apparently.