My Savior 🔞 ( Part One )

Decision

I may have mentioned earlier, my father, Rowan is a strict man. He's in his early fifties. I've never met anyone more workaholic than him

He was younger than I am now when he started the company together with my uncle and my grandfather. They both died in an accident when I was only 10. I guess that was the time when my father started to work harder. I can't say shit about him because he is a great person and he knows what he's doing. But as a parent ? He could learn this and that .
My mother on the contrary. She's a petite woman.

She was young when she had me, but somehow, never wanted more children after my birth.
She is less busy, and better parent than my father. But she's so soft for him. If he makes a strict decision she will sure support him and so I'll be fucked bad. That's what I know.
I've said it before, my life ain't special at all. We are rich but still not anything interesting than any other regular families.
They were silent. I could feel the tension running in the air. My father was checking something on his phone, mother was sipping on some fine red wine. And me? Poking around my meal, not having an appetite. What I had was rage. I wanted to stand up and throw a tantrum. But even I am not that stupid. I was well aware if I threw a fit, my father would make things worse for me. I wasn't aware how deep I was in this shit I caused for myself.
"Mm..."
There it is. Again. I hate it. First the silent treatment to make me more nervous. Fine!
"How have the school days been for you lately ? It's been a while since we last could spend a nice dinner together"
Nice dinner, my ass.
My mother tried to break the silence and shoo away the tension. My father kept his glance down on his phone. Alright? But if I was doing it then I'd would've been disrespectful. The hypocrisy huh?
"I don't know. Things are the same. No big deal.."
I mumbled. I ain't going into details about skipping classes, failing tests, not studying shit. Nope. If they aren't around, they don't need to know.
"..so, remember Margaret from our vacation from last summer? It appears she got her daughter an assistant as well , and they're doing so well"
My father was still silent. ASSISTANT. The more often I heard this word the more annoyed I felt by it.
"No mom, I don't remember. I wasn't there"
She giggled some. Can I even be mad at her? She was trying her best to tone down the mood.
"Can we talk about something else ? I'm already tired of hearing this fucking assistant bullshit "
Finally something that pulled a reaction out of my father. He glared up from his phone, right into my soul.
"Watch your mouth child! You already had bought trouble onto yourself and I'm not tolerating your behavior any longer. We will talk about the assistant and you will get one because , despite you're almost 26 , you can't act your age at all "
I took a deep breath, and another, then another..
But all for nothing. I could feel myself losing my temper fast.
"Are you for real? People hate my fucking face already! Do you really want to ridicule me by putting a damn babysitter on my neck?? It's laughable! I'm not walking around with no fucking assistant!"
My mother sighed , I knew it was the point my father will lose his shit too. With the speed of light he stood up and slammed his hands on the table. His glass still full made a roll on the pure white tablecloth , straining it red.
"I asked you to watch that tongue of yours! I warned you many times! You can live in this house because we aren't around most of the time! I let you study because I hoped you'd mature and realize that studying more will provide you better future! We turned a blind eye so far, whenever you got warned by the police for your unacceptable behavior! But I've had enough! Time to choose William! You go to the military and they'll man you up, or you stay and accept an assistant who will do the same but more *humanly*
I could feel my blood pressure getting higher and higher. Me going to the military? That's gotta be a fucking joke! Getting someone being pain in my ass? Also nope.
But at this point, I had to consider which one is the least bad.
Mother was anxious, playing with the napkin silently, unsure about either interfere or not. In the end , she chose not to.
"I'm not going to the military and you better know I'm not liking the idea of a babysitter either. But fine. Not like they'll stay too long"
I added that last part with a grin. For my surprise, my father showed up a wider smile than mine.
"Oh, don't you worry about it"
And I really, reaaaaallly hated the sound of it more than the assistant itself.
Once I was dismissed from dinner, I went back to my room. Slamming the door as the sign of my anger. Although it was already too late. It was matter of time till I was burdened with some idiot to ruin my days for unknown period of time. I had to come up with a plan. A plan , how to make the asshole leave me alone and run away crying . If I need , I'll bully them too. If I need I'll make their life a living hell. There is no a damn lower class idiot who'll teach me shit. It'll be me , teaching them where they belong.

I may have mentioned earlier - my father, Rowan O'Hara, is a strict man.
He's in his early fifties and I've never seen anyone more obsessed with work.

He was younger than I am now when he built the company from scratch with my uncle and grandfather.
They died in an accident when I was ten.
Since then, he's never slowed down.

I can't really say shit about him professionally.
He's brilliant. He knows what he's doing.
But as a parent?
Well... let's just say he could use a few lessons.

My mother, on the other hand, is a petite woman.
She had me young, never wanted more kids after.
She's softer, warmer...
But also so damn soft when it comes to him.
One strict word from Dad and she folds like a napkin.

I've said it before - my life isn't special.
We're rich. That's it.
We're not interesting. Not even to each other.

Dinner was quiet. Tense.
Dad was on his phone.
Mom sipped her red wine.
Me? Just poking at my food with zero appetite.
What I had instead was rage.
I wanted to stand and scream - but I'm not that stupid.
Even I knew that'd only make things worse.

Then came that damn sound again.
"Mm..."
God, I hate that noise.

"How's school been lately?"
My mom asked, trying to cut the tension.
"It's been a while since we had a nice dinner like this."
Nice? Right.

Dad kept his eyes glued to his screen.
If I did that, I'd get a lecture on respect.
Fucking double standards.

"I don't know. Same shit. Nothing big," I mumbled.
No way I'd mention skipping class, flunking tests, or not studying.
They're never around - they don't get to ask.

Then she did it.

"So, remember Margaret from last summer? She got her daughter a personal assistant too. It's working out so well..."

Oh, for the love of-

"No, mom. I don't remember. I wasn't even there."
She giggled nervously.
Couldn't be mad at her. She tried.

But I was sick of this damn word.
Assistant. Assistant. Assistant.
Shoved down my throat like fucking medicine.

"Can we please talk about something else? I'm tired of hearing this fucking assistant bullshit."

That did it.
Dad looked up from his phone and stared right into my soul.

"Watch your mouth, child. You've already brought enough shame on yourself.
You will get an assistant - because, despite being nearly 26, you act like a damn child."

I tried.
I took deep breaths. In. Out. Again.
But it was useless.
I could feel my temper slipping.

"Are you serious?! People already hate my fucking face!
And now you wanna attach a damn babysitter to me?!
I'm not walking around with someone wiping my ass!"

Mom sighed.
That was the signal.

Dad stood with the speed of thunder, slamming his hands on the table.
His wine glass rolled, spilling red across the pure white cloth.

"I told you to watch your mouth!
We let you stay here because we're rarely around.
We let you study in hopes you'd grow up!
Every time the police called us - we turned the other cheek.
But no more!
You've got two options, William:
Military school to man you the hell up,
or an assistant who'll do the same - but more humanely."

My blood pressure spiked.
Military?
No. Fucking. Way.
A babysitter?
Hell no.

But now it was about picking the lesser evil.

Mom played with her napkin, unsure whether to step in.
She didn't.

"I'm not going to the military," I growled.
"And I don't like the idea of a babysitter either.
But fine. It's not like they'll last long."

I smirked.

To my surprise, Dad smirked wider.
"Oh, don't you worry about that."
And I hated that sound more than the word assistant itself.

After dinner, I slammed my bedroom door like the dramatic bastard I am.

Too late now.
It was happening.

Some idiot was going to show up and ruin my life.
I needed a plan.
A way to make them leave.

I'd bully them if I had to.
I'd drive them insane.
There is no lower-class nobody who's gonna teach me a damn thing.
I'll be the one showing them where they belong.