The Inheritors [editing]

9. Good news. Or not.

The Empire High is, clearly, subsidiary to the Empire Group, a large Korean conglomerate businesses run by my father. And I am supposedly the heir.

Right after Ivy left, my father had called me and said that he wanted me to come home and finish my studies here. I'd gotten confused by his request, seeing as he was the one to suggest this study abroad thing at first. But then he clarified the deal. He said that me graduating from 'his' school will reflect positively upon its reputation, and his business as a whole.

I told him I agreed right away then took the flight he had already reserved.

Sure LA was fun and all. Hanging at parties regularly, where the good drinks and hot chicks, who'd appear way too thirsty and would keep hitting on me. Every time I would reject them then they would get upset and whine about how I had hurt their pride. The funny thing though is they didn't have any. Even when I made it clear that I wasn't interested, they still came back.

Now where's the pride in that?

My pals, who were mostly American, never understood my choices. They said that I was one lucky ass but I didn't appreciate what I got, or the numerous offers I was getting. Others summed my behavior in one word.

Pussiness.

And I'm pretty sure that's not even a word.

I drove to our house. The one that held thousand of my childhood memories. Like that time when I was four and went on running naked spilling paint in our garage. Apparently I was trying to mock the kid from 'Home Alone' with the paint cans.

Or that time my neighbor -who was also my best friend- and I built this tree house in our front yard. It hung pretty high up there, about 16 feet or so. Then my dad had this crazy idea to climb up and inspect it. The whole house came tumbling down with dad inside. Thank God he didn't get hurt.

Yeah. You could say I've had an interesting childhood.

A few minutes later I'm pulling out outside my parents' residence. I jumped out of the car and made my way to the building, passing the iron bars of the big metallic gate and through the yard garden that looked as beautiful as ever. Rows of evergreens and a scattering of shrubs and trees were lined up all along the lawn.

I stood facing the central door that lead to the living room where I knew mom and dad would be sitting. Taking a deep breath, I pushed the door open and let myself in.

As soon as she saw me, my mother's eyes lit up and she came rushing by my side, embracing me in a tight-almost suffocating- kind of hug. She must have missed me a lot. After all, it had been a while since she's seen me. Last time I came home was six months ago.

I hugged her back and stayed in her arms as long as possible, realizing I had missed her just as much.

My mother and I had always shared this beautiful bond; close and affectionate. In fact, she was the nearest thing to a friend that I have had, and surely the most honest one. She knew exactly how to intervene and react to every situation. Even during my rebellion phase, she was more comprehensive than I could have asked for.

We pulled away from the hug then I darted my eyes to the brown leather-covered sofa. As expected, my father was sitting there, his sight focused on the flat TV screen across from him, rather than on his son, only child may I add, who just got back from abroad. Very typical.

Noticing my glare, he looked at me, forced a brief smile before greeting me in his usual cold indifferent manner, giving me about two seconds of his time before returning his eyes back on the oh-so-interesting screen.