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Truth and Ties

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BLURB: The 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 rumors 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, with a smile. “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 f*ck*ng persistent. “Mr Antonio, are the rumors about you lacking a p*n*s 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 could never work in America again, but they kept flashing their cameras violently, eager to get everything they could from my frame. I said nothing and turned, ignoring my prior plan. “Lucky b*st*rd,” I hissed as I continued into the building.

Chapter 1

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.

 

“Relax, man, I am not my father. You don't always have to get so tense when speaking to me.” I teased, earning a timid nod from him. 

 

“Anything else?” I inquired, with my hands pocketed.

 

“N...no, sir.” He replied,  immediately turning and practically running away. I shook my head and scoffed.

 

Classic Tagoe.

 

I heaved a sigh before reaching for the band on my wrist once again drawing at it uncontrollably. I turned to the guard behind me and signalled him to take the lead to my office without me. 

 

Here goes nothing.

 

“You asked for me?” I inquired, closing the glass door behind me, my father lifted his head to meet my gaze and I noticed the newspaper article in his hands.

 

Shit! 

 

I instinctively attacked the band on my wrist again and stood aloof. My father throws a disgusting look at the band on my wrist, before angrily throwing the newspaper on the floor, causing me to flinch. 

On impulse, I glared at the newspaper, a glare actually meant for its owner. The room fell quiet, only the sound of the band I was fidgeting could be heard. 

 

“I gave you one job Damien. One job. And, of course, your dumb, useless ass had to mess it up again. So, is it true? You’re getting divorced for the third time huh? Do you have any idea how hard it was to get Chloe's father to agree to that marriage in the first place?” He yelled, running his hand through his hair, while I kept my head down and said nothing. 

 

Knowing Chloe's father it probably wasn't as hard as my father was making it out to be.

 

“All you had to do was get married, make it work, and boost our social reputation! Is that so hard?  When are you going to grow the fuck up?” He paused, running his hand through his semi-gray hair.

 

“You know I don't need this kind of scandal right now. The re-election campaign for town Mayor is just months away, and now Dean, (my father's campaign manager) is saying things aren’t looking good for us thanks to your fucking incompetence. I must have offended a lot of people in my past to get a son like you. Find a way to fix this!” he boomed, waving me away with his hands.

 

I walked out of my father's office and almost collided with a woman. I quickly apologized and made my way to my office. I guess today was one of those ‘bring your whores to work’ days.

Classic Victor!

I walk into my office to find Rafael, my best friend, entertaining some women in skimpy clothes. Sometimes I wonder how this idiot became my best friend.

“Disgusting!” I muttered under my breath. 

 “What's the meaning of this?” I barked out, startling the ladies. 

“Ho, ho, ho there he is, the latest bachelor in town.” he hooted.

“Who are they?” I replied, pointing at the ladies.

“They are your guests, I brought them to you, they cost a fortune so you owe me one, man,” Rafael said, raising a glass at me as I threw him a disgusted look.

I sway my head in the ladies' direction, my stern, cold, and intimidating gaze piercing deep into them, enough to get them tripping over in a haste to leave my office. 

 “Come on, you're such a party pooper,” Rafael said, opening his arms. I couldn't make out if he was drunk or just high, but I wouldn't be surprised if he was.

 “Really Raf? You bring hoes into my office?”

 “Extremely expensive h**** and, you should loosen up and have some fucking fun for a change man. Don't kill yourself over some article or social scandal.” He says and I shake my head, taking a seat in my chair.

“You should have been there this morning Raf, they're saying I got no dick, no balls, one even went as far as calling me transgender it's all over the fucking internet. Can you imagine that shit!?”

 “Yeah, yeah I totally can,” Rafael mocked and burst into laughter. “I'm sorry, that's hard man, but you can't entirely blame them for coming up with these crazy theories, I mean you are one of were forbes’ hottest man and are a fucking heartthrob, but you cant seem to keep a wife so its only natural that people assume shit about you butt saying you aint got a dick is just harsh me!” He laughed again, pulling out a cigar and lighter. I throw him a deadly stare and he tosses the latter quickly away.

“You must be out of your fucking mind if you think im gonna let you smoke a joint in my office, out now!” I yelled and he laughed, before raising up to make his way out of my office.

 “Try not to kill yourself, man, life's too good to be stuck on the past D.” He laughed again and disappeared out of the office.

 “Asshole,” I muttered as I placed a call and James immediately entered my office. 

 “Get the car ready, there's something I need to take care of.” James nods and leaves. 

 My phone chimes and I pick it up to find a text from my father. 

“Give me feedback by evening!!!!” 

I placed the phone down and relaxed into my seat, sighing and untightening my tie. I swallowed hard and inhaled sharply, reflexively drawing at the band again. Fuck my life!

Chapter 2

DAMIEN

THE NEXT DAY…

‘Fuck! How did this idiot get appointed as the chairman?’ I asked myself as I watched Chairman Han smoke away his pathetic life while attempting to flirt with a waitress who was old enough to be his daughter.

 

I had cleared my schedule for the afternoon to play golf with this old hag, hoping to convince him to take down the tabloids. But for the past hour, all he has done was fail woefully at golf, while shamelessly trying to pay the waitress into his bed. I glanced repeatedly at my wristwatch in utter frustration until finally, I saw him stand up and walk towards me.

 

“Oh, pardon me for wasting your time, my dear boy.” He apologized, taking a seat in front of me.

 

I responded with a blank look which I planned to maintain throughout the conversation. 

 

“Your father informed me that you’d be meeting me, but I had no idea it’d be so darn early.” He remar

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