Insanely To Own You

"Why did you leave me, Dad?" With a heavy heart, the young girl stood before the weathered tombstone, her delicate frame trembling with sorrow.

Her eyes, pools of glistening tears, reflected the anguish that consumed her very being. The wind whispered through the trees, carrying her mournful cries into the ethereal realm, where her father's spirit surely resided.

Her father had just been laid to rest. He was killed in an aircraft accident. As her tears cascaded down her delicate cheeks, a torrential downpour of rain matched the intensity of her emotions. Her delicate voice quivered and faltered, a symphony of emotions cascading through her being. Tears streamed down her porcelain cheeks, each hiccup a testament to the depth of her sorrow.

In the gloomy place, a man stood beside her, his voice filled with melancholic tenderness. "My lady, it is time for us to depart," he murmured, his eyes betraying the sorrow that weighed heavily on his heart.

For in this moment, not only had they lost a beloved employer, but he too had lost a cherished member of his own chosen family.

"You go home first, Butler Mario. I just want to spend more time here with my dad," the child whispered gently, hugging her father's tombstone. Even if it rains severely, it makes no difference.

"But, oh, young lad-"Butler Mario was about to protest but, the girl pleaded at him.

"I implore you!" exclaimed the girl with a pleading tone, her interruption cutting through the air like a sharp blade, halting the other man's speech in its tracks.

In a world where silence held the power to captivate hearts, the girl's voice was a rare gem, a melody that resonated deep within the souls of those who had the privilege to hear it. With a single utterance, she possessed the ability to command attention, stir emotions, and leave a lasting impression. The Butler stood as a pillar of unwavering loyalty and devotion.

The old Butler sighed. He nodded and left the girl to await the car.

As the Butler gracefully departed the area, he left behind a young lady, her heart fluttering with anticipation, in the presence of her beloved father. The air was thick with a mixture of trepidation and longing.

With a sorrowful shake of his head, the butler's trembling hand reached up to brush away the glistening tears that cascaded down his cheeks. His heart ached with a profound sense of connection. For he was not merely shedding tears, but rather, he was delicately wiping away the remnants of a deep emotional bond that had formed between him and the girl's father.

In the tender bloom of her youth, she was tragically bereft of her beloved father, who was snatched away from her all too soon. Alas, the mother of the child had vanished, leaving behind a void that could not be filled. Her absence was like a haunting melody, echoing through the corridors of their lives.

Days turned into nights, and nights into days, as the child yearned for the return of the one who had given them life. But alas, she did not come back, leaving the child to navigate the world without her tender touch. Unfortunately, the child found herself bereft of all familial companionship, save for the enigmatic presence of the butler, as she was left all alone.

"Oh, dearest Dada, shall you too leave me, leaving my heart shattered and my soul adrift in a sea of despair?" Her voice trembled, filled with a mixture of longing and desperation.

"Don't you love me anymore?" she whispered, her eyes glistening with unshed tears.

The words hung heavy in the air, as if time itself had paused to witness the unraveling as she uttered those words, her voice quivering with the weight of her sorrow, tears cascading down her delicate cheeks.

Her delicate form was enveloped in the cascading rain. With a heavy heart, she gracefully lowered herself onto the soft grass, her delicate form finding solace beside her father's weathered tombstone.

The gentle breeze caressed her tear-stained cheeks, as if nature itself sought to console her in this moment of profound sorrow. In the hallowed presence of her beloved father's final resting place, she sought solace, her soul yearning for the ethereal connection that transcended even if her father was already dead.

"Why are you lying there? It is raining heavily. You'll get sick," whispered the voice, its words dripping with concern as it clutched an elegant umbrella.

She glanced at it. A boy was standing in front of her. In the depths of her heart, the young maiden believed that they were but mere contemporaries, perhaps only a handful of years older than her tender age.

Her gaze fixated upon the young lad, her eyes brimming with an insatiable curiosity. With a delicate sniffle, she managed to quell the tears that threatened to spill from her captivating eyes. Summoning her inner strength, she gracefully rose to her feet, her every movement imbued with an air of resilience and determination.

With a delicate touch, the girl's slender fingers brushed against her glistening cheeks, tenderly wiping away the remnants of her tears. Her eyes, pools of sorrow and vulnerability, met the boy's gaze with a mixture of trepidation and longing. In a voice as soft as a whispering breeze, she mustered the strength to answer him, her words carrying the weight of a thousand unspoken emotions.

"I just wanted it." With a heavy heart and tears glistening in her eyes, she uttered those sorrowful words: "Unfortunately, my beloved father has departed, leaving me bereft of love and adrift in a sea of loneliness."

"Stop crying." With a gentle touch, the young lad delicately brushed away the glistening pearls that adorned the girl's porcelain cheeks.

His fingertips, like feathers dancing on her skin, caressed the delicate trails left behind by her sorrow. In that tender moment, their souls intertwined, as if fate itself had orchestrated their encounter.

"Everything is gone for a reason. You stated that no one loves you. Look around you; that is not the case. Someone close to you loves you," he added gently.

In a voice that resonated with the wisdom of ages, the young lad spoke to the girl, his words flowing forth like a gentle breeze caressing her delicate ears. Her eyes, like two shimmering stars in the night sky, suddenly ignited with a radiant glow.

"Truly?" the girl asked, her voice laced with tender reassurance. With a gentle inclination of his head, the young lad expressed his agreement.

Her heart fluttered as she gazed upon the young lad, his tender soul shining through her eyes. In the midst of her own anguish, she couldn't help but notice the depth of his own suffering. Yet, despite the weight of his own burdens, he reached out to console her, offering solace in the face of their shared pain.

"What's your name?" the girl asked.

The girl grinned, since she had just met this boy. It has a pleasant disposition and doesn't feel the need to console people. A rosy hue painted her delicate cheeks as the young lad's lips gently brushed against them. When someone calls him, the child is in a hurry.

"Calven Ken Strauss!"

"All right, I'm leaving. Daddy is calling me nice to meet you, little girl," he remarked as he ran back to where the father was.

The girl yelled out, "Calven Ken Strauss, I will remember your name because someday you will marry me!"

With a gentle sway of his head, the boy's eyes met hers, a silent declaration of his inner turmoil. His hand, adorned with fingers that seemed to possess a life of their own, gracefully rose and danced through the air, a tender wave that spoke a thousand words.

Her delicate lips formed the words that danced in the air like a secret melody. "I vow to the depths of my soul that you shall be mine," she murmured, her voice a tender caress that only her heart could hear. The weight of her promise hung in the stillness, as if the universe itself held its breath, eagerly awaiting the fulfillment of her passionate declaration.

In the tender bloom of her youth, she experienced the inexplicable fluttering of her heart, a sensation that whispered of a love yet unknown. It was in the presence of that captivating young lad with whom she engaged in conversation that her admiration bloomed like a delicate flower, its petals unfurling to reveal the depths of her burgeoning affection.

She vowed to herself that in the future she would own the boy, and no one could stop her from doing so.

The experienced gentleman peered at her with a hint of concern in his eyes. "Are you absolutely certain about this, my lady?" he inquired, his voice laced with a touch of skepticism.

"Shall we be returning to the enchanting shores of the Philippines?" inquired the butler again, his countenance a picture of earnestness, as he addressed his young mistress.

For countless years, the butler had faithfully served as the unwavering pillar of support for the girl's family, offering solace and understanding when no one else could. He was the sole individual who truly comprehended her, the one who possessed an intimate knowledge of her innermost thoughts and desires.

The astute butler was acutely aware of the young girl's vehement reluctance to return to that place, for she harbored no lingering attachment to it.

"Indeed, I am," the young woman nonchalantly retorted to the elderly gentleman, her gaze fixated upon the world beyond the confines of her office window.

However, the butler found himself interrupted by the young lady, who, with an air of impatience, refused to allow her Butler to conclude his sentence.

With an air of unwavering authority, she declared, "No more butts!" Her words hung in the air, commanding attention. Her assertiveness astounded the butler, who could only nod in agreement.

The girl harbored an unwavering determination, one that refused to yield to any form of contradiction, particularly when it came to matters of utmost importance. The guardian of the young girl let out a weary sigh, his understanding of her predicament evident in his expression.

With a gentle smile, he regarded the young lady before him. "If that is truly your desire," he spoke softly, his voice carrying a hint of understanding, "then I shall acquiesce." With a graceful bow, he uttered, "Fear not, for I shall attend to your papers."

He was about to leave when he spoke again. "Ahmm, Young Lady, there is Miss-" The tranquil ambiance of the young lady's office was abruptly shattered as an uninvited guest made an unexpected entrance, rudely interrupting the diligent butler in the midst of his duties.

"Waah! MM, are you returning to the Philippines? I implore you; allow me to accompany you," pleaded the girl's friend, who brazenly entered the premises without the courtesy of a knock. The young girl couldn't help but emit a derisive snort in response to her best friend's desperate pleas.

With a mischievous glimmer in his eyes, the butler let out a hearty laugh, escaping his lips. His amusement was directed towards none other than the cherished companion of his young lady, a scene that unfolded with a touch of irony.

"Is that how you please people by being rude?" The young woman arched her delicate eyebrows in surprise as her dear friend breezed into her private room, heedless of the customary courtesy of a gentle tap on the door.

As the girl's gaze fell on her friend, a mischievous smile tugged at the corners of her lips. In a sudden burst of amusement, her friend emitted a playful snort, causing the air to be filled with a delightful melody of laughter.

Wendy Jane Endrina, her vivacious best friend, possessed a captivating blend of cultural heritage. With her strikingly unique lineage, she embodied a mesmerizing fusion of Filipino and American roots. Wendy Jane's infectious energy and zest for life were only matched by her endearing eccentricity, which seemed to be an integral part of her very being.

At the tender age of sixteen, she possessed a demeanor that belied her years, as she seemed to exhibit the innocence and playfulness more commonly associated with a mere twelve-year-old. "And as if I'll let you, how about your brother?" The girl asked her friend, who was not looking at her friend because she was always signing the documents on her table.

They were but mere orphans, their parents having long departed from this world. It was this shared sense of loss and abandonment that forged an unbreakable bond between them, transforming them into the closest of friends.

"Very well, MM," she uttered, her voice tinged with a hint of frustration. "I took the liberty of contacting him while you were engaged in conversation with the butler. Remarkably, he acquiesced to my request solely on the grounds that my brother holds unwavering trust in your character. Alas, the same cannot be said for me," she continued, her lips forming a slight pout.

The girl came to a halt when her friend muttered something and arched an eyebrow before shaking her head. Her friend, with a penchant for gossip, possessed remarkable swiftness in her actions.

With a glimmer of determination in her eyes, the girl turned to her friend and spoke with a resolute tone, "Well then, my dear friend, it appears that our departure is imminent. Tomorrow shall mark the beginning of our grand adventure."

With a graceful motion, the young girl rose to her feet, her eyes fixated on the world beyond the confines of the building. Lost in a sea of thoughts, her mind wandered to a place far away. A place that held memories, dreams, and a longing for home.

The Philippines, a land of vibrant colors, warm smiles, and the embrace of loved ones As they pondered their return, a mix of excitement and nostalgia washed over her like waves crashing against the shore. The sights, sounds, and scents of their homeland danced in her imagination, painting a vivid picture. Several years had passed since she last graced the soil of the very nation that had witnessed her birth.

As she cast her gaze upon the tapestry of memories, her best friend's ceaseless lamentations about her character echoed through the corridors of her mind.

"Welcome back, MM!" her dear friend exclaimed, her words carrying a sense of genuine joy. The young maiden instinctively raised her delicate hands to shield her ears from the cacophony that emanated from her companion's impassioned outburst.

'Why does she have to shout when she knows our situation? We just got off here on my private jet. Really pay attention.' A subtle snort escaped the girl's delicate lips, a private amusement that she kept to herself.

"Why do you have to shout? I'm not deaf; why are you welcoming me? We came together. What if there are reporters and paparazzi here? We're dead!" The woman's voice reverberated through the air, cutting through the surrounding noise and capturing the attention of all who were present. Unfazed by the presence of onlookers, she unleashed her words with forceful intensity, directing her anger towards the individual before her.

"Too late, MM; they're already there; why did you shout too?" said her friend with a peace sign as the reporters approached them. A torrent of profanity surged through the girl's thoughts, her inner voice laced with expletives that dared not escape her lips.

The butler, a figure of unwavering loyalty and unyielding resolve, swiftly moved to intercept the encroaching reporters, her bodyguards forming a protective shield around her. Their collective presence served as an impenetrable barrier, preventing the eager journalists from drawing too near, temporarily quenching their insatiable curiosity.

The clandestine journey back to their beloved Philippines remained shrouded in secrecy, a carefully guarded secret known only to a select few. However, in a land where gossip thrived like wild vines, it was inevitable that whispers of their return would soon permeate the air.

The innate curiosity and insatiable appetite for news among the Filipino people effortlessly unraveled the tightly woven threads of concealment, bringing to light the truth that had been concealed.

"Wow!" The paparazzi, with a glint of curiosity in his eyes, approached Miss Goodfield with a polite yet probing question.

"It is a pleasure to encounter your presence in this place, Miss Goodfield," he began, his voice laced with intrigue. "Might you be so kind as to enlighten us on the purpose of your visit?"

"Hello, Miss! How is your journey going? Are you considering growing your operations in this location?" A reporter from a business publication was questioned as well.

The girl had already begun to respond to the first questions when she instantly proceeded to ask another one, which caused her countenance to change.

The young lady made a pact with herself, saying, "Next time, they will also ask about my personal life."

A journalist for a celebrity section approached her and inquired, "Do you have a boyfriend, Miss?" When confronted with that inquiry, the young lady responded in an appropriate manner.

She was able to count on the unconditional support of her closest buddy at all times. Sincerely answering, "I don't have a boyfriend, but someone owns my heart," the young lady said

She sated their appetite for information. It's possible that the time has come to respond to a query. They are going to realize that the girl is not going to answer the remaining questions.

After providing that response, the young lady promptly indicated to her butler that he would be responsible for taking care of the reporters as well as their security personnel. Almost immediately, the two passengers and their additional security personnel got inside the limousine.

"That's a new issue for you, MM, regardless of the response you provide to my question. You are aware that our reputation extends around the globe. A lot of men are crying right now because they have a broken heart," her companion joked to her as they sat next to one another in the limousine.

At such a young age, she has already established herself as a successful model, actor, and businesswoman.

She is honest in all aspects of her life, including academics, athletics, and even business. She provided a response to the reporter's query because she wants to be able to say that she is proud of the man she dreams of when she really meets him.

Since she is Marydeth Marie Goodfield, she is free to act however she sees fit. She always manages to obtain what she wants, no matter what it takes.

And the man who had occupied her thoughts and heart up until this point is the one she intends to pursue once she has accomplished everything she set out to do.

The woman believes that the man belongs to her and no one else, and because of this, she is willing to sacrifice anything just to be with him.

"I am aware, MM, that you are not in the Philippines on business-related errands." Her friend made the statement out of the blue.

She showed no response to what Wendy had to say. The young lady only nodded, indicating that Wendy is aware of all of her secrets and that she does not keep anything from her. She remained silent and did not make any sound. She is currently pondering the next step in her plan. They were unaware that they had arrived at her house.

Her friend Wendy greeted her by saying, "We're here at your mansion, MM; it's really beautiful and big," with a smile on her face.

Marydeth turned her attention to the home, the source of both her happiness and her sorrow. The home that she had avoided going to for more than a decade. Marydeth heaved a sigh before walking into her own home.

She couldn't take her eyes off of it. Nothing has changed; everything remains the same. It is still possible to feel the void.

Every time the young woman walked across the room and touched the floor, it was a reminder of the times in the past when she had tried to block off those memories.

"F*cker! You were the one to strike first. You respond with an undeniable appreciation, as though you perceive your girlfriend's beauty to be truly captivating. Just so you know, it appears that your girlfriend is rather petite, akin to a delicate shrimp." Calven's voice reverberated through the air, a thunderous roar that echoed with a mix of anger and frustration.

His words, sharp as daggers, pierced the silence as he unleashed his fury upon the unfortunate souls who found themselves at the receiving end of his wrath.

No one dared intervene or halt his relentless pursuit. Calven was a familiar face to nearly every patron in the bustling bar.

Kindness is a virtue that begets kindness, a gentle ripple that spreads warmth and compassion. Yet, in the intricate tapestry of human interactions, there exists a contrasting thread: cruelty. When faced with the callousness of another, the scales of kindness tip, revealing the darker shades of our nature.

"This time, it is quite possible that your father's wrath will be unleashed upon you as a result of your involvement in yet another brawl. This will result in your immediate return to prison after you have just been released," Calven's best friend stated to him. "Bro, you need to chill out." Calven's lips curled into a disdainful sneer as he dismissively released his grip on the man, allowing him to slip away. With a triumphant grin etched upon his face, he delivered yet another forceful kick to his adversary.

"Tss, thank you; I'm sick of getting arrested every time I leave the house." With one final, resolute kick, he delivered a decisive blow to the assailant, who had been mercilessly pummeling his unfortunate victim. Satisfied that justice had been served, he swiftly departed the dimly lit bar, his loyal companion Jayson Bud Milton faithfully trailing in his wake.

One by one, those obstructing their path departed. In the dimly lit confines of this establishment, there exists a character who has earned a reputation as the quintessential embodiment of malevolence-none other than the so-called "best friend."

Fortuitously, no obstacles impeded their path, for Jayson Bud Milton's parents happened to be the proprietors of the bar.

The staff, with a sense of acquiescence, allowed the two individuals to depart without any further hindrance. They also do not fight if others who will fight beside them do not come first.

"Ah, my dear friend, it is quite fortunate that you did not linger, for had you done so, I too might have faced the wrath of my parents." Jayson chuckled, his words laced with amusement, as he extended his hand towards a cigarette, the two of them strolling towards the parking lot.

As they arrived at the designated parking spot, Calven found himself spitting blood beneath the car. He meticulously adjusted his hair, ensuring that every strand fell into place with utmost precision. As they smoked, the friends leaned against their vehicle.

"He is deserving of it. Is the blame to be laid at my feet for the unexpected advances of his girlfriend?" He pondered aloud, his voice laced with a tinge of uncertainty.

With a flick of his wrist, he retrieved a cigarette, its tip glowing brightly as he brought it to his lips. A cloud of smoke escaped his mouth, dissipating into the air as if carrying away the weight of his question.

His closest companion, a confidant of many years, simply shook his head in a gesture of disapproval or disbelief. A hush fell over them, the stillness broken only by the gentle rustling of leaves in the cool evening breeze. Calven, lost in his own thoughts, found solace in the tranquility of the parking lot. As he savored the crisp air, a flicker of movement caught his discerning eye, drawing his focus away from the peaceful scene before him.

Amidst the swirling tendrils of smoke from his smoldering cigar, a voice called out to Calven, capturing his attention.

There was a woman he knew from the bar who walked up to him. Calven's gaze swept over her, taking in every detail from the crown of her head to the tips of her toes. A soft, melodic tune escaped Jason's lips as he pursed them together, creating a gentle whistle that danced through the air. The woman exudes an undeniable allure, her sensuality and allure captivating all who lay eyes upon her.

Calven's best friend wasn't shocked when she leaned in for a kiss and gave him a French one. The lady wanted to give Calven more, but he refused. His head throbbed with the aftermath of the chaos that had unfolded mere moments ago.

"Next time, babe, not now." He halted the girl's steps, for it was clear to him that this passionate kiss could not possibly culminate anywhere else but here, in the confines of the parking lot.

The lady's lips formed a delicate pout, a subtle expression of discontentment. With a sly grin playing upon his lips, Jayson gently shook his head in a gesture of amusement.

Calven's hand made swift contact with the woman's posterior, eliciting a sensuous sound of pleasure from her lips. Disappointment washed over the woman's countenance, yet she couldn't resist the allure of one last embrace with Calven before bidding him farewell.

"That was really hot, dude; you're really good! Why haven't you brought it to your condo yet?" Jayson said, starring at the woman's ass.

Jayson's gaze settled on Calven, who responded with a nonchalant shrug.

With a frustrated tone, he responded to Jayson, "Unfortunately, my father insists that I make haste and return home this very moment."

In the midst of Jayson's exuberant revelry, his father reached out to him by phone, casting a figurative lifeline amidst the pulsating beats and swirling bodies within the confines of the bar. Had he not engaged in a heated altercation, he would have arrived at his humble abode quite some time ago.

"Why?" his friend inquired once more.

Calven's head trembled with a disapproving shake as he cast away the lifeless cigarette, its smoldering remains landing at his feet. He even stamped on it to extinguish the light before returning his friend's attention.

"I don't know either. I'll go first, bro. You know my dad well." Calven said goodbye to his friend. In silent agreement, his friend nodded. He is well aware of his father's strict nature, yet paradoxically, he grants him the freedom to pursue his own desires.

His father, weary from countless attempts at admonishment, has resigned himself to a more modest desire: for his son to simply complete his studies, despite the undeniable folly that seems to permeate his every action.

As he traversed the winding roads in his sleek automobile, his mind was consumed with a whirlwind of thoughts. The perplexing behavior of his father had left him pondering the enigmatic circumstances that seemed to surround him. In his heart, a deep longing stirs to bring solace to his beloved father. In the wake of his mother's departure, his father's attention became singularly devoted to his work and to his son.

Calven Ken Strauss, a man of enigmatic allure, graces the world with his presence. At the tender age of nineteen, he possesses an undeniable allure, earning him a reputation as a dashing and enigmatic figure. Renowned for his striking good looks, he exudes an air of confidence that captivates all who encounter him.

With a reputation as a charismatic playboy, he effortlessly navigates the world of intimacy, leaving a trail of broken hearts in his wake. Yet beneath this façade of charm and allure lies a hint of danger, as he carries himself with an air of rebellion that only adds to his characteristics.

As Calven navigated the winding road, a heavy sigh escaped his lips, carrying with it a sense of weariness and resignation. The rhythmic hum of the engine provided a soothing backdrop to his thoughts, as the throbbing ache in his jaw was inconsequential.

He possesses an innate sense, an intuition that alerts him to the gravity of the situation whenever his father's voice resonates through the phone. A foreboding sense of unease settles upon him, compelling him to unravel the mystery that lies within his father's call. His father, the sole pillar of his familial existence, holds the key to his past, his present, and his future.

Upon his arrival at their humble abode, he proceeded with unwavering determination towards the sanctum of his father's space. Without so much as a gentle tap on the door, he brazenly entered the room.

The father's gaze fell upon him, mirroring an unmistakable familiarity. In the dimly lit study, the venerable Strauss found himself ensconced in a plush swivel chair, his weathered eyes fixed on his son with a mixture of curiosity and concern. The old man, with the weight of years etched upon his face, released a heavy sigh that seemed to carry the weight of a thousand unspoken burdens.

Calven perched himself on the cushioned seat, directly facing the regal armchair that belonged to his esteemed father.

"Dad," he called out, his voice filled with concern, "what has transpired?" Calven, with a serious expression etched on his face, mustered up the courage to pose a question to his father.

The old man, with a weariness that seemed to emanate from deep within his soul, let out a heavy sigh before finally allowing his words to escape his lips.

"My dear son," the old man responded with a heavy heart, "I find myself in a dire predicament as my once thriving businesses teeter on the precipice of bankruptcy. Alas, I am at a loss as to what course of action to pursue."

Calven's eyes expanded, their pupils dilating as if trying to take in every detail of the scene before them. He pondered over the issue at hand, contemplating whether or not this was the very predicament his father had presented.

The aged gentleman harbored a reluctance to disclose this particular matter to his beloved offspring, yet he found himself compelled to impart further knowledge. In their shared world, where empathy was a rare commodity, these two souls alone found solace in each other's presence. "Don't worry, Dad; I'll help you." Calven's gaze fixed upon his father, his eyes tracing the lines etched upon his weathered face.

In the face of any adversity, he remains steadfast in his commitment to assist his father with unwavering dedication. Rising to his feet, he uttered those words with conviction, his hand gently reaching out to tap his father's shoulder.

Calven possessed an intimate understanding of the profound significance that those businesses held in his father's heart, for they were not merely commercial ventures but a cherished legacy bequeathed by his esteemed grandfather.

"Don't worry, son; I just wanted you to know about this. I will not burden you with this responsibility. I'll take care of it; just study hard and don't fight for a girl," his father added, smiling. The mere presence of that object provided some relief from their predicament. From the depths of his youth, there was something he had inherited-a precious gift passed down from his father.

"Dad," Calven replied with an air of nonchalance, "I have merely inherited it from you."

Indeed, it is an undeniable truth that the essence of a tree is intrinsically intertwined with the nature of its fruit.

"Kidding aside, son, change your ways. I regret being a playboy." The father's words hung heavy in the air, laden with the weight of regret. "That's the reason why I lost your Mom," he said, his voice carrying the weight of his sorrow. Calven, however, remained silent, his emotions too complex to be expressed in mere words.

A heavy sigh escaped the lips of the elderly gentleman. Nobody can stop Calven from doing what he wants to do. Like his father when the elder Strauss was a child, he is obstinate.

He imparts the knowledge to his son, for it is solely Calven's prerogative to exercise his own judgment.

"Son, it's a shame to waste your beauty, but it's okay; you can sleep here and get a facial treatment first. Your face looks so pitiful," the old man said, teasing his son.

With a subtle inclination of his head, the young man acknowledged the father's words before gracefully departing from the confines of his office, his silence serving as a resolute response to the well-intentioned advice his father offered.

The old Strauss was left behind and seemed to be under more stress because of the child. As it stood there, its gaze fixed upon Calven's retreating figure, a tremor coursed through its entire being.

Calven is Calven. He harbors an unwavering determination to resist the influence of others, steadfastly guarding his autonomy and individuality. However, this resolute stance is bound to present a formidable test in due course.