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Chapter 3: The Glittering Show

Spotlights pierced the night sky outside the Callahan Motors exhibition hall. Limousines glided up the red carpet, depositing elegantly dressed VIPs. The air buzzed with energy and opulence.

Inside, the sleek new autonomous car model gleamed under the lights. Servers weaved through the crowd proffering champagne and hors d'oeuvres as conversation and laughter filled the hall.

"Ladies and gentlemen, please welcome Callahan Motors CEO Mark Callahan and his son, Ryan!" announced the emcee. The audience erupted into eager applause.

The father and son took the stage, both wearing polished black tuxedos. Mark Callahan stepped forward to deliver his keynote, smiling beneficently at the sea of expectant faces.

"Friends, investors, welcome to the unveiling of the future!" he began, arms extended wide. Cameras flashed continuously. "The era of self-driving cars is upon us and the RX-9 leads the charge..."

As his father extolled the vehicle's virtues, Ryan stood stoically beside him, providing an occasional nod. His smile felt stiff, his cheeks aching from holding it. He felt like just another prop - a carefully curated image of the dutiful, worthy heir. After the speech concluded, eager investors surrounded the sleek prototype, peppering Ryan with enthusiastic questions. He answered on autopilot, imitating his father's smooth, assured tone. Inside, his thoughts drifted...

Later, at the after party, Ryan politely extricated himself from a circle of fawning socialites. Stepping onto the balcony holding a half-finished drink, he took a breath, the night air refreshing after the cloying atmosphere inside. Below, he glimpsed partygoers laughing giddily as they entered their limos, garish with wealth yet so empty beyond it. Ryan's life of endless exhibition galas and flattering chitchat suddenly felt so meaningless.

Ryan just wanted to retreat to his room after the stifling gala, but his father cornered him first.

"What a tremendous night, son! The investors were eating out of our hands," his father enthused, loosened tie around his neck. "Now it's time we plan for your future."

Ryan tensed, sensing another lecture coming. "Father, it's late. Can't this wait?"

"Nonsense! This is important," his father insisted, steering Ryan towards the study. Ryan reluctantly followed, his feet feeling heavier with each step.

His father poured two glasses of Scotch inside the dark-paneled room. "You and Margareth will be the most powerful couple in the state, you know," he proclaimed, handing Ryan a glass.

Ryan swirled the amber liquid, gathering his courage. "Shouldn't I have a say in who I marry?" he asked carefully.

His father laughed - a sharp, derisive sound. "Don't be foolish. This union has been strategized for years. It's necessary for the business, our family legacy."

Ryan's grip on his glass tightened. "What if I don't love Margareth?" he pressed, struggling to keep his voice even. "What if we're incompatible?"

His father's amused look hardened into one of impatience. "Love? Compatibility?" He scoffed. "This is about building an empire, not nursery rhyme nonsense."

Ryan felt his reticence dissolving into frustration. "It's my life! Shouldn't I have some say in my own future?"

His father slammed down his glass, making Ryan jump. "You are my heir!" he bellowed. "You will secure this family's power and fortune through marriage as I command!"

Ryan fell silent, pulse pounding in his ears. His father composed himself, straightening his jacket with a sharp tug. "Enough silly objections," he ordered. "It's time you took your responsibilities seriously."

Ryan opened and closed his mouth, words failing him. His throat felt tight, like a noose drawing closed. Without a reply, he turned stiffly and walked out.

"Don't you dare walk away from this!" his father yelled after him.

Ryan strode toward the front door, pulse pounding in his ears. His father's enraged shouts followed him.

"Come back here immediately! We are not finished!"

Ryan whirled around, hands clenched. "Yes, we are," he said through gritted teeth. "I won't let you control my life anymore."

His father's face turned an ugly purplish hue. "Ungrateful boy!" he bellowed, spittle flying from his mouth. "After everything I've given you, this is how you repay me? Through rebellion and defiance?!"

Ryan stepped forward, eyes blazing. "Given me? You've imprisoned me! All my life under your thumb, molded to be your obedient heir." His voice shook with emotion. "But no more. I have to live my own life, find my own path."

His father seemed to swell, apoplectic with fury. "How dare you!" he thundered. "I've provided you with wealth, privilege - everything a man could want! And now you throw it all away for, what? Selfish freedom?"

He jabbed a finger at Ryan. "I see now you don't deserve to be my heir. Get out of my house!" he spat viciously. "You're no son of mine!"

Ryan flinched, feeling as if he'd been struck. For a moment, grief threatened to overwhelm his anger. Then he turned silently and walked to the door.

"Ungrateful boy," he muttered to himself, shaking his head. "After all I've done to secure his place, this is how he repays me?"

He took another long swig from the bottle. "Throwing away everything - power, prestige, his birthright - for what? Freedom?" He spat out the word like a curse.

Staggering over to his desk, vision blurring with drink and fury, he swept everything off violently, sending items crashing to the floor. Chest heaving, he braced himself against the ornate wooden desk.

"He'll be back," he slurred to himself. "When he sees how hard the real world is, he'll come crawling back." He took another swig, eyes narrowing cruelly. "And I'll be ready to put him back in his place."

The champagne bottle slipped from his grasp, thudding onto the Persian rug and leaking its contents. His father paid it no mind, sinking into his desk chair muttering bitter condemnations. Ryan strode rapidly into the ten-car garage, his footsteps echoing off the concrete floor. He stopped before his red Ferrari, gripping the roof so hard his knuckles turned white. Then with a guttural cry of anger and anguish, he slammed his fists down on the glossy hood. The blow left a dent, but he was too consumed with emotion to care.

Wrenching open the door, Ryan sank into the leather seat and just sat for a moment, heart pounding erratically. He took a few deep, shaky breaths, then inserted the key into the ignition.

The Ferrari's engine roared to life, the entire chassis vibrating with barely contained power. Ryan's hands tightened on the wheel as he shifted into gear.

As the garage door slowly lifted, revealing the dark winding road beyond, Ryan felt the binds that had trapped him for so long finally break. He was utterly alone now - but also free.

With gritted teeth, he floored the accelerator. The sports car shot forward into the night like a projectile, leaving the scattered fragments of his old life behind.

Where the road ahead would take him, Ryan didn't know. But it had to be better than the gilded cage now disappearing in the rearview mirror.

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