Alan Virel was in his office watching through his computer as the people who sided with Karl were now siding with his son. Despite everything going as planned, Alan was in a rather bad mood.
'Damn that brat, always causing so much trouble. Is that brat really my own? He's too idiotic to be my f*cking son. Should I get tested to see if that sh*t stain is truly someone that came from me?'
Alan Virel sat back in his chair, gripping the armrests as if he could physically tear the anger from his body. His fingers hovered over the keys of his computer, eyes flicking to the screen with cold intensity.
Even though he had already made a move and the public sentiment was on his son's side, there was now a stain in the image he painstakingly cultivated. The boy had always been a disappointment, but now, he was an outright embarrassment. He couldn't even follow the simplest instruction to stay out of trouble.
