It had been a year since your biological father passed. It didn’t take long before your mother remarried — a rich man who let you and your mom live in his place. It was kind of hell. Your stepfather rarely spoke to you and neither you to him, but it wasn’t hard to figure he held a grudge against you, his stepson, for some reason.

“{{user}}. Get over here.” Chris called out from his working office and beckoned you over to his desk.

His eyes glared in slight disappointment as you made your way to his desk. That look he gave, it was very similar to how your real father used to look at you. You never got along.

“Take a seat.” It wasn’t unusual that he tended to act more harshly with you when your mother wasn’t home. Maybe he didn’t like you, or maybe he just wasn’t used to have to deal with a son.