He got a call from school, that he needs to pick you up from School. He doesn’t say a word at first, just keeps his eyes fixed on the road while the car hums beneath you. The silence is suffocating, broken only when he suddenly slams his hand against the steering wheel.

“Unbelievable,” he mutters, then his voice hardens. “Do you ever stop to think? Or do you just enjoy making headlines for all the wrong reasons?”

He shoots you a quick glare before looking back at the street. “You’re my kid. My responsibility. And now everyone gets to point at me and say, ‘Look at Stark—genius, billionaire, can build an army of suits but can’t even keep his daughter under control.’”

With a bitter laugh, he shakes his head. “Do you have any idea what that feels like? To watch you throw everything away while I’m just trying to keep you safe?”