Chapter 5 That annoying young brat

Mr CYRUS

My two hands inside my pockets and my black shades on, I moved towards the poolside. The children screamed like normal teenagers, as they dashed past me, nearly damaging my ears.

I stood between my two burly security guards and sighed. Through my shades, I noticed my son in the water, running his fingers through his damp jet-black hair that is comparable to mine.

As he typically does, he is facing away from us and pretending that I am not present.

I gave it to one of my guards after removing my shades. Even though it's a fucking Saturday afternoon and the sun isn't great, I had to come here-still wearing my work suit-to find out why my backyard was filled with loud music that was annoying the neighbors.

I kept my eyes on my child.

"Can you please explain to me why you are having a party at this time of the day?" I inquired.

He left the pool without answering. I observed him pick up a towel and make his way to the beach benches. He dried his hair after wiping his face and body with the towel.

"I asked you a question, Junior," I said.

Without replying, he circled the pool and made his way to the tent.

"I am aware of your youth and independence. Even if you are just as rich as I am, will you maybe show me some decency in this fucking house? Your father is still me.

He mumbled, "Oh, fuck off," and I heard it.

"What did you just say to me?" I inquired.

Without replying, he wrapped the towel over his neck and came over to us. One of my guards blocked his path just as he was about to pass.

He looked at the bodyguard sultrily from head to toe, his brow furrowed.

This child, my god.

"Can you tell your King Kong-looking piece of shit, to get the hell out of my way?" Without taking his eyes off me, he questioned.

"Now you want to talk?" I inquired.

His gaze shifted to me.

"I have been asking you a fucking question and you ignored me."

"I choose whether or not to answer your damn questions." He remarked, gazing right at me.

I sighed a little sigh. He can make me incredibly angry.

However, I will not allow him to.

Not right now.

"Son, pay attention to how you talk to me. Your father is me. I cautioned.

He sneered. "Tell him to get the fuck out of my way." He made a demand.

"Can you be a little bit sensible for once, Junior?" I inquired.

He snorted.

"For heaven's sake, you are eighteen. You're not a child anymore."

He sneered. "Then, stop asking me damn questions meant for kids and allow me to live my fucking life." He growled.

"You refer to this as life? You were reckless and fucking loud."

He sneered. "Now the damn kettle is calling a pot black."

I raised my eyebrows. "Excuse me?"

He turned to the guards without a word.

"This is the last time you will ever throw an irresponsible party in my house, boy." I placed my order.

He approached and took an aggressive stance in front of me. He has a history of acting in this manner. He is only a few inches taller than me, but our noses are nearly touching and our heights are nearly equal.

"My mother owns this house just as much as you do. You don't have the authority to instruct me on what to do or not do. He snarled and gave me a direct look.

I gritted my teeth in rage as I looked at him. I'm having a hard time not punching this younger me. He's pressing me hard.

The way he always does.

The last time we argued was over a year ago when he made an unpleasant statement. He pushed me, even though I felt embarrassed about it.

And I snapped.

But I am not going to allow him this time.

He's still standing right next to me, giving me that defiant glare.

"Get the hell out of my personal space, Junior." Calmly, I placed my order.

He stayed motionless, refusing to comply.

"Junior," with a sneer.

Suppressing my fury, I tightened my knuckles.

"I believe you heard what I said." After saying that, he stepped away from me and pushed the guards aside.

As I watched him make his way to the mansion, I let out a sigh. My aide and secretary, Timmy, was coming toward me. Junior simply walked past her when she welcomed him.

Timmy gave him a suspicious glance, wondering what was up with him.

That's my son for you, then. A little rascal who is conceited, spoiled, and extremely stubborn.

"Good day, sir." Timmy came over to me holding files and said hello. She is dressed in her go-to business suit with a knee-length skirt. She wears this specific suit pattern every day, albeit it comes in a variety of colors. She wears large, amusing-looking glasses and has her brunette hair pulled back in a ponytail.

"Timmy," I said as she approached me.

"I came with the files as you instructed." She sighed and then grinned as she said that.

She adores grinning. I like one of her qualities.

"Timmy, I had second thoughts. I'm returning to the business." She trailed behind me as I walked by her. My guards did the same. My ears were flooded with her typical clicking heels.

"But sir, what about the...."

"It was canceled, Timmy." I shot back, making my way to my vehicle.

"Okay sir, since you are going back to the company, I should let you know about your schedule for the rest of the day." She said, attempting to match my quick steps.

"You have a meeting with the board, another with the team, an interview with Carmen radio, a meeting with...."

"Cancel the interview." I interrupted.

"Sir?"

"Timmy, I don't want any interviews. Next time, don't accept any. My security opened the backseat car door for me as I gave the order.

"Okay, sir, but you have to...."

"Have you had lunch yet, Timmy?" I interrupted her once more.

"Mister? "No, sir."

"Then proceed. I signaled to one of my guys to stop overworking themselves, and he shut the car door.

Before getting into the car, I saw my guard hand Timmy some cash.

After my driver started the vehicle, we left.

Mr. Cyrus Magnus is my name. head of the Dynasty group of businesses. I am a widower and the parent of an 18-year-old who is obstinate and conceited.

Since my wife passed away, this has been my typical way of life with my son. The boy is a constant source of frustration and a hard nut to crack.

I canceled the fucking interview with a radio firm primarily because of him. On the day of his mother's funeral, he accused me of being the cause of her death. The ceremony was attended by members of the press. They took note of that and put it online.

It was terrible.

When I saw it in the news and the papers, I felt terrible.

Instead of asking questions, they proceeded to fabricate absurd tales about me.

That's why I detested the press. I don't do many interviews because of this. My staff will take care of it, even if I have to.

That annoying young brat is aware that I didn't murder his mother. Cancer did.

He simply had to act like the pampered brat that he is.

In the first place, I had no intention of marrying his mother. She was imposed on me by my parents. Due to a merger and the fact that we share a common status, our marriage was planned.

Junior was born after our marriage. We live like enemies, even though the boy looks a lot like me.

Furthermore, he causes trouble wherever he goes. Even in the classroom. He is an absolute annoyance.

I'm not sure where I went wrong to have a son like that.

My phone rang, and I sighed. I noticed the dialer as I pulled it from my pocket.

It's my father.

The origin of all my issues.

I answered the phone.

"Dad," "What the hell is your problem, Cyrus?" I arched my brows at his blurt.

"What's wrong?"

"Why did you put your hands on Junior again?" He inquired.

I sneered. "Excuse me?" He emailed me a photo of his facial bruises. "The hell?" You did it to him, he said. "

"What?"