Alexander could actually count the amount of times he had willingly gone over to his father's house.
He hated the mansion. Hated the person it housed, the memories it accommodated, the version of him that came to life every time he set foot into it- he hated every single thing about that house.
Yet there he was, without a gun actually being pointed to his head, driving to that house.
Actually, he knew a gun being pointed to his head was going to better. That way even if he was to die from refusal, he wouldn't have to deal with the aftereffects of setting foot into that house. Heavens knew he'd rather do anything than show up and have a longer than five seconds conversation with his father. Even a five hour conversation with Lana about how much she valued her 'friendship' with Andrew seemed less torturous.
Yet-
