Page 604 of Filthy Elites

“I’m not grateful. We both know you got rid of the charges because if I went down for that, you’d look bad.”

If I were someone else, those charges would never have been dropped. I ran my car into the window of that store because I got a bad mix of drugs.

As bad and fucked up as I am, I own my fault in the matter because I know I shouldn’t have been driving. I wouldn’t have if Ilya told me he’d mixed hardcore shit in with the usual concoction.

Dad stiffens and intensifies his glare at me. “So, you would have preferred a charge to taint your already colorful record?”

“I don’t care.” I smirk. “My future is already written in the stars.”

It is.

My life was already designed before I was born. I’d go to Raventhorn Academy and move on from there to their university to study accounting. When I graduate college, I’ll be working in my father’s firm, which serves Aleksander Ivanov, the Pakhan of the Komarovski Bratva, and leader of the Knights.

I will live for and work for the Bratva until I die.

That is how my life will be, no matter what I do. All I can change is how rough or smooth the journey will be. It’s like a choice between a slow or fast death. Both lead to the same result.

“Are we done?” I level him a stare.

“No, we’re not done, son.” He shakes his head and lifts his chin higher, so we’re eye to eye. “I mean it; I don’t want any trouble from you. Yes, your future is already written in the stars, but remember, I own your ass until you graduate from the academy. Your inheritance is in my hands, and if I don’t see fit to give it to you, you’re not getting shit.”

Selena chooses that moment to walk up to the doorway. I hate it when she does that—listening in.

It’s always at points when she knows my father has some element of control over me, and I’ve been put in my place.

She’s not the evil stepmother and doesn’t attempt to replace my mother, but she’s evil in other ways.

My mother hired Selena when she came in off the street, knocking and begging for food. Selena spat on that kindness when she started fucking my father.

The fact that she lives and breathes in this house irritates me. I would tell her just that too, but I always hold back because I know my mother would never want me to speak to her that way in her state of pregnancy.

“Are you listening to me, Chad?” Dad asks in a stern voice.

“Loud and clear.”

“I know you want to hurt me—”

“Yes, I fucking do.” I smile wide and proud. “Somebody should. I’m only not doing it because of that inheritance of mine.”

It’s the only reason I’m still here.

“Alright, well it looks like we have some understanding.”

I don’t answer; I just leave him and walk away.

Times like these make me grateful I have the whole left wing of the house to myself. It’s like a separate house, but I have to enter from the front when I’m driving because of the garage.

Here, I have privacy and parties, women galore whenever I want to fuck, and most of all—secrets.

After I go inside, I lock the door with my key, so the staff knows not to disturb me. They hardly come here as it is because my door is mostly locked.

I head over to the liquor cabinet in the living room area, which is just a bit smaller than the main one.

Reaching into the little cupboard behind the bottles of wine my grandparents brought from Russia, I grab my stash of Blow and a bottle of whiskey before heading up to my bedroom.

I have enough drugs in here to end my father and me both. If the cops got their hands on half the illegal shit I have stored up; there wouldn’t be a damn thing anyone would be able to do to get us off.

I go to my room, throw myself down on the bed and take a good dose of the Blow and a swig of whiskey.

---