The Popularity Project

Chapter Eighteen - So What? We Get Drunk.

(Picture of Vivian)

Ryder's POV

"You need to come home," my butler informs me.

"Why would I do that, Herald?" I ask in an annoyed tone. Herald never cares whether I am home or not, so of course when I actually need to talk to someone, he decides to be concerned.

"Your parents- they sent you a letter post marked important, it would be in your best interest to come home now and read it." Herald answers sternly.

My parents haven't communicated with me in over two years, so their letter must be important. I apologize to Vivian internally as I turn the car around and start speeding home.

"I'll be there eventually," I hang up the phone.

After ten minutes of driving fast, I arrive at the house. As large and luxurious as it it, I absolutely hate it. I avoid going home as much as possible. It just reminds me of my parent's greed and obsession with money. I didn't want to have anything to do with them.

When I was fifteen or sixteen, I got into a large fight with a guy who's girlfriend cheated on him with me. After the fight, Herald considered telling my parents of my less than good behavior. I convinced him they wouldn't care, so he decided not to on one condition, I had to volunteer at this Mental Institution so I could have an epiphany and realize how greatly blessed I am.

On my first day, I met Gemma for the first time in years. She told me all about her daughter and son-in-law's death, and how they left behind three children. I in turn told her about my parents abandoning me, and my recent fight- which she scolded me for.

I began to look forward to volunteering, so just so I could visit Gemma and make her feel less lonely. She always talked about Vivian and her siblings- how she missed them and wished she had fought harder for custody. Apparently Vivian lived with her aunt since her parents died, and her aunt was cruel with words.

I walked into the large old fashioned mansion-like house. "Herald?" I yelled, my voice echoing through the rooms.

"Mr. Daniels, in the living room," Herald shouts back. When I enter the living room, I see he is dusting the many thousand dollar paintings.

"How are you today?" Herald asks when he sees me.

I roll my eyes, "Where's the letter, Herald?" My tone is closed off and antisocial. I never talk to Herald about my life, he is a lifeline to my parents, and they don't deserve to know anything about my life.

"There- on the table," he points to the obviously placed letter. I grab it off the table and walk out of my house, giving Herald a cold departing "bye."

I get back into my car, and open the letter carefully. I'm not positive if I want to read the contents.

Dear Son,

Your father and I know that this letter is late. We both apologize deeply for losing contact with you. Leaving you is our deepest regret. The past is in the past, nothing can be done to change that. We would like to talk about the future- more specifically your future.

We would assume things in school are going well since Herald has not informed us otherwise, so college is a definite. The funds will be covered, under one condition. After you finish college, you must uphold the family tradition and come to Italy to work with the company. If you choose not to do so, there will be other consequences. Please inform us with your decision as soon as possible.

With love,

Mara & John

I immediately crumple up the letter. They cannot force me to go to Italy. I will not sell my soul to the devil that is the family company. I laugh at the word family, my parents, who sign their first names on a letter to their son, don't know anything about family.