They say that 'Behind every spoiled daughter is a bald headed father'.

But Blake was not bald. Even in his 40s, he had no bald spots on his head nor is his slick black hair greying anytime soon. So why? Just why is Beatrice so damn bratty. What did he do wrong? He gave her whatever she needed AND wanted and its pissing him off how she spends millions every damn month. And now this. She just had to come to him crying like a baby. And here he thought he had gotten rid of one already.

He was referring to his gold digging ex-wife. She looked just like his daughter and seemed to inherit every damn quality from appearances to attitude.

"Shut up, I'll take care of it. Just... ugh" Blake groaned as he pinched the bridge of his nose. This was getting really frustrating. Just because an intern at his company was brutally pointing out her behavior in her face, she acted like the whole world's ending. Blake couldnt deny that the intern was right but still. They still should've kept their mouth shut. Now his ears are assaulted by this little devil.

"Jarold, take her to her room and call for this 'intern' to come to my office. Now" He ordered firmly. He needed to fix this right now. Or maybe just send Beatrice to an asylum, that was a good idea.

Blake shook the thought away when his conscience reminded him that the little devil was his daughter. His blood and flesh and whatever else there was that connected them. He turned back down to his paperwork and sighed. His work was piling up but his daughter just had to stress him out.

Hearing the door open and footsteps approach his desk, he looked up to see the intern. And his expression was far from amusement and pleasure. Should he fire them? Legally, they didnt do anything wrong. But still, he needed to shut his daughter up. On the other hand, he couldnt bring himself to dismiss someone who had dedicated themselves to gain experience in his company. He was a fair leader after all.

"Why did you say that to my daughter?" He asked with a low yet frustrated sigh.