Truth and Ties

DAMIEN

Relaxing in the sun's warmth, I briefly basked in the radiant sky through the car window before redirecting my attention back to the newspaper in my hands, it was yet another article about my divorce. 

“Tsk, these fucking reporters and their insatiable lust for gossip,” I muttered, tossing the New York Times news updates through the window. 

The car made an abrupt stop and John, my chauffeur, shot a concerned look in my direction before peeking through the car's window. 

“Ugh! Can’t I get a fucking break?” I hissed, tossing my phone beside me, I brought my attention back to John.

“How bad is it?” I inquired.

“Terrible sir,” he replied and out of habit, I reflexively drew on my wristband, the pain completely oblivious to me as I did not even flinch from the effect. John opens the door and I get down, proceeding to walk into the building.

Thousands of reporters and paparazzi swarmed towards me as soon as they spotted me.

“Mr. Antonio, Mr Antonio, any words about your recent divorce process?” one reporter asked.

Yeah, go to hell!

“Mr Antonio, can you say something about the rumours circulating about your divorce this time around?” Another asks. 

Ask Chloe, I am sure she has a lot to say!

“Mr Antonio, what do you have to say about the allegations circulating about you on the internet?” Yet another asked, pointing one of those tiny microphones in my face.

“Mr Antonio, is it true that you were born as a woman and underwent transitioning alongside cosmetic surgery to become a man?” 

“That's a new one!” I muttered to myself, smirking.

“Mr Antonio, why aren't you ever the one who files for a divorce, is it true it's because you are impotent?” Another reporter said and it took all my manpower not to punch the idiot in his face.

The nerve of these reporters! 

The questions kept coming from all directions, and they all kept flashing their lights to catch a picture of me for their front pages. The flashes of their cameras will surely earn me a migraine later. My guards tried to ward them off, but they were so fucking persistent.

“Mr Antonio, are the rumors about you lacking a penis true?” one of them asked. That made me stop in my tracks.

I wanted to get a glimpse of the reporter's face and make sure he never worked in America again, but they kept flashing their cameras violently, eager to get everything they could from my frame. 

“Lucky bastard,” I cursed, entering the building.

When I'm done with Chloe, she's gonna curse the day she met my father. Fucking gold digger!

“S-Sir! Sir! Sir!,” Tagoe, my father's assistant, came running towards me. I sighed heavily and reluctantly stopped.

“Don said to come see right away.” He spoke carefully as if his life depended on it. 

“Tell dear father that I have more important things to take care of. I'll see him later.”

“H… He insisted that you see him immediately, sir. it's u…urgent,” Tagoe stammered, avoiding eye contact.