His Butterfly

Chapter 8: Furious

Reese:

After years of running Choi Enterprise, today marked the first time I felt an overwhelming sense of relief as a business meeting came to an end. Throughout the entire session, my dad had incessantly challenged every decision I made, undermining me in front of our employees and potential business partners. It took every ounce of self-control not to stand up and walk out of the room.

His little stunt was nothing more than a desperate attempt to assert his authority and remind everyone present that he still held some control over the company's ownership. But little did he know, I couldn't care less about his power flex. If he wanted to take this company and shove it, he could do so far up his ass. The only reason I had taken on the responsibility of preventing Choi Enterprise from falling into destruction and ruin was because it also belonged to my mom.

In all the lessons my mom had imparted to me, the one that resonated the most was to never let my dad see that he was getting to me. So, I remained composed, determined to protect what was rightfully ours, even if it meant enduring his constant attempts to undermine me.

Rubbing the bridge of my nose, I settled into my seat, desperately clinging to the composure my mom had instilled in me for dealing with my dad's antics. This little ritual had become second nature to me whenever I felt tense or found myself in my father's presence. Most days, it helped alleviate some of the stress that washed over me when I was near him, but not today.

The origin of this deep-seated animosity between Dad and me remained a mystery. I couldn't pinpoint when or how it all began. All I knew was that I had always been a disappointment to him. Sometimes, I even questioned if I truly was his son. On my sixteenth birthday, I mustered the courage to ask him that very question. His response was far from definitive, merely a cryptic remark about living under his roof. As soon as the meeting concluded, I strode outside to my Jaguar and sped away, not bothering to wait for Dad, knowing that our paths would inevitably cross again.

As I drove, my mind wandered back to last night, a mischievous smile creeping onto my face. The memories of the mind-boggling positions Butterfly and I had explored flooded my thoughts. Some were so unimaginable, I didn't even know they were possible. Trust me, I've experienced just about every position you can fathom. "Will I ever see her again?" I pondered aloud, my voice lost in the solitude of the car, as I pulled up to my parent's house. Gazing up at the imposing two-story structure, I let out a sigh, hoping this night would pass by swiftly, though I knew better than to get my hopes up.

"How's it going, little brother?" Kyane's cheerful voice greeted me as soon as I stepped inside the house.

"I'm doing alright now that I catch a glimpse of your ugly face!" I playfully retorted, embracing him in a brotherly hug.

"I see life has been treating you well in New York," I remarked, a tinge of envy seeping into my words. Kyane had managed to escape our father's controlling ways, not caring about his approval in the slightest.

"Life has been more than great there, little brother. But sometimes, I do miss being here," Kyane admitted, a hint of nostalgia in his voice.

I stared at him, utterly perplexed. "Why on earth would you miss being back in this hell hole?" I blurted out, unable to comprehend his sentiment.

"You wouldn't understand until you leave here," he responded flatly, offering no further explanation. We both decided to drop the topic and made our way towards the kitchen. Mom stood by the stove, stirring a large, shiny red pot.

"Mom, your favorite son is here!" Kyane cheerfully announced. I walked over to her, planting a gentle kiss on her rosy cheeks before wrapping my arms around her waist, enveloping her in a warm embrace. This loving gesture had been my customary greeting for Mom for as long as I could remember.

"Kyane, you know I don't play favorites," she said, giving him a stern yet playful look, her hand gently caressing my shoulder. I cherished the loving, nurturing care she showered upon both Kyane and me, regardless of our circumstances or who was around us. She was the one constant person in my life, the rock I could always rely on.

"You two go upstairs and wash up before dinner," she instructed, planting kisses on our cheeks. "Oh, by the way, your father mentioned that he'll be here shortly and he's bringing some guests home," I overheard Mom say as she turned back to attend to whatever was simmering in the big red pot on the stove.

"I wonder who Dad is bringing home," Kyane pondered as we ascended the stairs to our old bedroom.

"There's no telling," I replied, stepping into my room. Silently, I offered a prayer, hoping that this night would pass peacefully and swiftly, without succumbing to anger in the presence of our father.

As I surveyed the room, memories of genuine happiness seemed distant and scarce. The few moments that did bring me joy were all thanks to Mom, Ingrid, and Margret. In this house, under the weight of my father's harsh upbringing, I had experienced countless lonely, tear-filled nights. But those cherished moments, when Mom, Ingrid, and Margret would hold me close as I cried myself to sleep, longing for a father-son connection, provided a glimmer of solace. Countless sleepless nights were spent yearning for his attention, desperately craving his presence. After years of neglect, I couldn't help but question if he ever truly loved me at all.

I often wondered if my father treated Kyane in the same manner. If he did, I never witnessed it during my childhood. The only time I saw them at odds with each other was when Kyane made the bold decision to pursue his lifelong dream of owning his own business. His choice to forge his own path, rather than succumbing to Dad's expectations of taking over Choi Enterprise, created a significant rift between them. Dad's refusal to support Kyane's aspirations only fueled his determination to prove himself, to show that he could succeed without his father's help or financial backing. Kyane's unwavering resolve to resist our dad's manipulative tactics and his relentless pursuit of success in the business world out in New York eventually earned Dad's begrudging respect.

Looking over at my dresser, my eyes fell upon an old photograph of Dad and me, captured in a moment of pure joy. The genuine happiness radiating from his face mirrored my own. I couldn't help but wonder where that carefree, happy version of my dad had disappeared to, and why I couldn't recall that shared moment of bliss. To me, the man I called Dad felt like nothing more than a stranger who happened to share my DNA. A mere sperm donor with whom I resided under the same roof and bore the same last name. Don't get me wrong, I do love my dad, but there's also a deep-seated resentment because I know he will never reciprocate those feelings, not even in the slightest.

As I completed the final touches of my attire, a symphony of animated chatter echoed from downstairs. The joyful banter of a lively crowd filled the air, accompanied by the distinct murmur of two seasoned gentlemen and a handful of feminine voices. Amidst the cacophony, one voice stood out, unmistakably belonging to Hye-jin Lee. The realization that she had received an invitation to dine with my father left no room for doubt about the purpose of this gathering. "I refuse to stand idly by and let him coerced me into marrying a gold-digging seductress," I muttered under my breath, descending the staircase with Kyane trailing closely behind.