When My Father Asked Me To Choose A Career, What Did I Do?

“We shouldn’t be doing this,” his raspy voice dripped with lust and uncertainty as his eyes scanned my exposed cleavages, “your father…” “Shhh.” I stopped him mid-way, placing my finger on his soft lips, “We both want this. I have seen the way you look at me, Mr. Richard. Do not hold back now.” I whispered sultrily. He swallowed hard and I saw him clench his well-chiseled jaws. I opened my mouth to continue my protest when all of a sudden, he grabbed me by the waist, pulled me closer and covered my lips with his in the hungriest manner ever. My body melted, succumbing to his burning desire. *** He was my father’s childhood best friend. He was always there for me since I lost my mother at the age of four. My father grieved hard and found it difficult to recover for many years, so Mr Richard was the father figure I had. However, he left the country after my thirteenth birthday and I almost forgot about him until he returned. I had turned twenty-one and when I laid my eyes on him, all my childhood memories came rushing back. But that wasn’t all there was. I noticed how hot and sexy he looked for that age and how his gaze lingered way too long on my mature body. And then, fate kept bringing us together, all I had to do was call on him. He was just being nice, right? Nothing more should have happened but my body refused to listen to my brain. I wanted him! I wanted him around me all the time, I wanted him to whisper in my ears and punish me accordingly if I did something wrong… I wanted him INSIDE ME.

To prevent me from being jealous of my stepmother's son, my dad implemented a "family point system". Washing dishes earned 1 point, and getting a perfect score on a test earned 10 points. Accumulating 1000 points meant you could make a wish come true. When my stepbrother broke a vase, Dad said it was a sign of good luck and awarded him 50 points. When I insisted on going to school with a fever, Dad said I was trying to garner sympathy and deducted 100 points. I scrambled to scrape together every point I could, all for that exorbitant Math Olympiad registration form. On the day I finally accumulated enough points, my stepbrother cried and said he wanted a pair of limited-edition sneakers. Dad immediately emptied my points. "We're family. Your points are your brother's points too." I looked at the torn-up application form and jumped from the 18th-floor balcony.

" It is my wish that you marry Hazel", my father said to me in his letter, and now I have to get married to my childhood nemesis just to claim my inheritance.

When the murderer tortures me to death, my criminal investigator dad and chief forensic pathologist mom are cheering at my brother's match. The criminal saws off my tongue. He answers my Dad's call with my finger. Just before the call ends, Dad's cold voice cuts through. "Playing dead, huh? We should never have brought him back." The murderer chuckles mockingly. "Looks like I grabbed the wrong kid. I thought they'd care more about their real son." When Mom and Dad arrive at the crime scene later, they stare at the mutilated body in shock and rage at the murderer's cruelty. But they never realize that the broken, bloodied body is their biological son.

My father was a senior HR executive. He used KPIs to define my life. "Rank top ten in your grade, and I'll give you a B, with a bonus of 250 dollars. "Place in a state-level competition, and you'll get an A, with a bonus of 500. "If your SAT score hits Ivy-level, I'll give you an S+ and a 5,000-dollar year-end bonus." I studied as if my life depended on it, and in the end, I got the acceptance letter. My father slapped a contract down in front of me instead. "Congratulations on onboarding into the next phase. Starting today, your allowance will be structured as base salary plus performance plus attendance bonus. "Base pay is 250 dollars a month, enough to keep you from starving. "To prepare you for a high-pressure work environment, I’ll conduct random inspections. Fail, and your pay gets docked." When I ran a 104°F fever, he cut my attendance bonus, saying my physical resilience didn't meet standards. When I forgot to submit a weekly report because I was buried in schoolwork, he froze all my money. To stay alive, I went behind his back and sold blood at the hospital. At the end of the semester, I held my transcript and scholarship certificate, thinking I had finally earned the highest rating. But my father looked at me without a trace of warmth. "Your S+ bonus has been reallocated. The company decided to invest it in your brother, Harry. He has more potential." I looked at the 100-dollar "consolation prize" he handed me and laughed. So in his company, I didn't even qualify as an "outstanding employee."

I'm at a job interview at a major company. One of the interviewers is my father, Edgar Booker, whom I haven't seen in ten years. He wears a sharp suit and carries himself with an imposing presence. When he sweeps his indifferent gaze over me, he pauses for a rare moment. After the interview ends, the HR manager, Jesse Dorsey, pulls me aside. "You're Mr. Booker's son, right? He says you can start next week." I smile faintly and slowly tear up the offer letter. "No, thanks. I don't want to work with a murderer."