Chapter 1 Destiny

TIARA

"Out of the way!" I yelled frantically at the man who was heading in my direction since I knew I wouldn't be able to dodge him in time.

I missed my opportunity to break when I finally saw him. Instead, my bike went into an unavoidable swing and I could hardly keep it under control. I didn't manage it . As I got closer, I realized I was going to hit him.?

To my great astonishment, the bastard suddenly noticed me and backed away. Enough for me to lose my balance and smack him in the arm with the handlebars. The fall I took had my thoughts and my insides all mixed up. "Watch where you're going, you moron"! I snapped at him and was quite justified in my rage. I became even angrier when I noticed he was silent.

"God, my canvas!"

My best paintings got scattered and covered in the asshole's coffee as they lay on the sidewalk. I could only watch them helplessly.

I struggled to get to my feet and lifted the paintings while my eyes were on the verge of tears. He slashed them to pieces.

"Me, a moron? Wow, I didn't know they still made people like you," I overheard him exclaim as he casually wiped the coffee off his pricey freaking shirt. The idiot had left a store that was so extravagant that I couldn't even afford a shoelace.

I stood squarely in front of him, using the last of my remaining strength. And I froze. The bastard was scorching hot.

He glared at me with dark eyes that seemed to enslave me in some kind of strong but fictitious anguish. Suddenly, I stumbled over my words, and much worse, my posture. My legs betrayed me, and countless emotions overcame me.

Never before had I seen a man who was both gorgeous and annoying.

My attention was drawn to the noticeable brown stain on his shirt and the way his muscles moved through the thin fabric. He was also examining me, perhaps even boldly. The audacity of him!

I fought to break free of the daze this dickhead had put me in and continued to defend my rights. This man just humiliated me, and I realized how kind nature had been to him.

"What did you just say?"??

I could hardly contain myself from hitting him in his perfectly carved jaw. He was furious. His chocolate-brown eyes had a black veil over them, and I could tell by how intently he was looking at me. But who cared? He just ruined my life's work.

"Look what you did to my shirt!"?

"Your shirt? Who the hell cares about your stupid shirt? See these? Do you know what they are?" I yelled as I threw them at him.?

He shrugged with utter insensitivity, which pissed me off even more. But I didn't have the time to sit around and argue with a brute. "You know what? I don't fucking care. I'm going to make you pay one way or another. Now take them! They're no good anymore, and I hope you're happy with your performance!"

Unexpected things happen in life, they always come at once...

"I'm coming now! Don't break down my door!" I shouted, putting the brush and colors down next to the canvas. It was barely past 12 PM and whoever was knocking on the door didn't stop until I arrived. "Oh my God, stop!" I repeated behind the door, opening it. "What?" I snapped in a raised tone.?

Steven Glare, founder of the London Belle Beauty Spa chain---my biological father, sat motionless in front of me, large dark circles under his eyes.??

"Tiara..."

I just slammed the door without hearing another word.?

My first mistake was opening the door. I should have knocked him out with the first punch. I paced nervously up and down the narrow hallway of my apartment. What was he doing here after all these years? I'd barely escaped his shadow. With trembling hands, I reached for my phone to call my therapist. The one guy who helped me through this troubled time. This while I could hear him hammering on and on.

"Tiara! Tiara, open the door!"?

Then he started pounding on the door louder and louder.?

"Shut up! Go away! I don't want to see you!" I shouted at him, finding my hands shaking so hard I dropped the phone on the floor. "Shit!" I hissed, and just knowing the value of the phone and the poverty I was living in kept me from picking it up and throwing it against the wall.

"Tiara, please open up! We need to talk..."?

I heard his voice again, this time softer, more pleading. He wasn't fooling me so easily.?

"Fuck off! I don't want to talk to you! You never cared about me"?

"Tiara, it's not about me, it's your mother..."

My face tightened. Mom. Was it a trick to get me to open the door? I didn't think he had the nerve to use my mother to get to me. Besides, he hadn't seen me in years.?

I talked to her yesterday, and she was fine. Must have been another one of his scams. His whole life with us had been a sham.?

"You're bluffing! I talked to her yesterday; she was fine" During this time I inadvertently opened the door.?

Relief flashed across his face when he saw my eyes.?

"We really need to talk," he repeated.

"We can talk right here," I replied. "And be quick about it. I have other things to do"?

It was a ruthless command that once would have made him proud. Now it made me furious.?

But standing there waiting for an answer that didn't come, he suddenly burst into tears.?

I was shocked. I've never seen him cry. I would even say that his eyes did not know how to shed tears, his heart did not know what compassion meant. He was incapable of feeling anything but the power of money.?

I was still waiting for an explanation, but his tears were flowing. My mind went back to my mother. I reached for the collar of his ragged shirt. "Speak up! What happened to her? Don't just stand there, silent!" I shook him a few times until I got tired.

Standing in the doorway, I was staggering, my heart pounding. He was a bastard, for sure, but he was my bastard father. And he didn't look so good, especially now that I had time to examine him. His hair, usually so thoroughly styled, was a mess, and his ridiculously overpriced suit was tousled as if he'd been sleeping in it. It shocked me that the suit looked big on him to make me realize he had lost some weight.?

Steven Glare had always been a sturdy man. Now he was just a shadow of his former self, or the one I remembered him to be.?

Wanting to break eye contact with him, I looked over my shoulder at my still unfinished painting.He used to treat his business partners more than any member of our family. His urgent need of me seems like a knife to cut my heart.

"what has happened?" I am confused.

"Your mother is very sick," he said with no consideration, just as I turned to face him.?

"What?" I swallowed my grief and words, hardly breathing. A tremendous weight seemed to sit on my chest and my legs were stiff.?

"Your mother has stage one lung cancer and I don't know what to do," he said, still motionless outside the door.?

I didn't even know if I was breathing or if I simply died with what he said. I softened for her, for my mother. How many slaps was I supposed to take?

"Where is she?" I asked in a hurry, looking for my purse and keys. "Take me to her"?

I was desperate, trying to gather myself, but it was damn hard. I was the only one agitated. He wasn't. "Why tell me now? For how long did you know?"?

I knew I was asking too many questions, but they never seemed to stop forming in my head. I suddenly placed the blame on my father. "You're responsible for all this! You with your indifference, with your money! All that mattered to you was having enough money to even take a damn bath in them if you could. You're an asshole!" I shouted, hurt so deeply that I had no tears left. I cursed myself that because of him I had become like a piece of stone, feeling nothing.?

"Tiara, I need your help!" he continued, as if my outburst didn't exist. His audacity.?

"You need my help only when my mum is dying? Are we family or not? You don't even care about her! Listen here, mister!" I roared with a hatred I could hardly contain. "I suggest you stay away from her and from me. I appreciate you coming here to tell me. Just give me the address of the hospital and get the hell out of our lives!" My words didn't hurt him, but that he still stood in my doorway without moving an inch seemed odd. Why didn't he just leave? He bothered to come all the way over here to tell me about my mother. Was he remorseful? He certainly was. Still...

"Tiara, your mother is dying. We found out a week ago..." All the words stopped in his throat. It was the first time my father, the one sure of himself and his millions of dollars, could no longer articulate two words. This was ridiculous.?

"A damn week? And why are you coming to my door now? I spoke to her yesterday. Why didn't she tell me?" I asked again, refusing to believe this was actually happening to me and to her. I didn't care about him.

"We didn't start chemo... yet..."?

"Why not?" I screamed, knowing how important taking action really was and he was doing damn nothing to save her life.

"I am broke, Tiara! I am not your father."?