The Amazing Marcus Puth

Seventy five.

Don crept home, hoping to avoid his father's anger, and quietly made his way to his room. He removed his shoe, holding it in his hand, and took a deep breath before opening the door a crack to peek inside. To his dismay, he saw his father pacing back and forth in the sitting room. "Shit," he muttered under his breath, rubbing his hair in frustration.

Just then, his gaze met the maid's, who was standing afar. He walked up to her, clearing his throat.

"Is the back door open...?" he asked urgently, his eyes wide with concern.

She nodded solemnly, "Yes, sir."

Don gave her a brief nod and a fake smile, trying to appear calm, and the maid blushed, seemingly charmed by his gesture despite the tense atmosphere.

Don opened the back door and tiptoed up the stairs, trying to go unnoticed. Just as he was about to open his room door, he heard his father's voice from behind.

"So, this is when you decide to come home, Don?" his father said, his tone firm and authoritative.

Slowly, Don turned bac