Fugaku called her in at five. When she came in, Hinata set the folder with the freshly printed report on his desk. She finished the second folder with the same care that she had the first, but now with the knowledge that he might not correct her if she was wrong.
Fugaku's nose scrunched. "When did you finish this?"
"An hour ago, sir. I didn't want to bother you." Hinata answered.
"Bring it next time." Fugaku slid it to the side. "I want you to move into the apartment tonight. Your clothes will be sent there." Hinata panicked. Didn't he say by Friday? She didn't even know what all her father would let her take or how she was going to get it there. "The car taking you home will have two men to help you move."
Hinata pierced her lips together. She had to make sure her father wasn't home. "Yes, sir."
Fugaku eyed her. Hinata wasn't sure if he could see her panic. She had no idea how well she was at hiding it. He looked back at the screen like he didn't notice if he did. "Once there, I will expect a prompt response to anything I require. Is that understood?"
"Yes, sir."
"I'm sick of finding someone else to do your job," Fugaku growled at his screen.
Hinata tightened her hands around themselves, looking down at her designer heels. He had to find someone else to make sure she looked like this. She couldn't disappoint him now. She would do her best, better if she could. To keep this job as long as she could.
"Dismissed. This is the last night you will leave before I do."
Hinata bowed, rushing out of the room to frantically called her sister. "I need father out of the house."
"What? Why?" Hanabi was clearly eating something on the other end.
"I'm on my way home right now. The company hired men to help me move. I don't want him there." Hinata whispered to be less rude to the two large men in the front seat of the large black van.
Hanabi pouted on the other end. "What am I meant to do?"
"Tell him about your grades. Tell him that you want to celebrate. Just get him out!" Hinata pressed.
"Dad! Did I tell you what I got on my midterm!" Hanabi called as she hung up.
Luckily, by the time Hinata got home, her father's car wasn't in the driveway. She only felt safe taking what was in her room. Her father wouldn't miss her old clothes, personal items, the futon that Hanabi handed down to her, or the low table she used as a desk. The only other things she took from the kitchen were the bentos she personally bought for her lunch at university. The men were a little confused that she wasn't taking any dishes. All of her things didn't even take up half of the back of the van, even with the rolled-up futon and her table.
Hinata signed the lease on her phone, profusely apologizing for doing this all so late, but he just handed her keys with a smile and said it was fine. Odd, but maybe he saw the Uchiha company logo on the first payment.
The apartment was a small room with a bathroom and kitchenette, a traditional style but updated due to the area. They moved her futon, blankets, table, and a few bags, but it still looks so empty.
Hinata thanked the men, unpacking what little she needed to. She needed kitchenware. She looked at the time. She could still make it to some stores for the basics. She needed at least a set of dishes, a pot, a pan, a coffee maker, some chopsticks, and food.
It was going to be a long night.
Fugaku sat back in his chair thoughtfully. He wasn't expecting her to be so much like her mother. He was expecting a carbon copy of her father, despite the resemblance to the former.
It would make him feel worse about this, but his plans hadn't changed. There was no way she escaped all of her father's poor traits. Once she was used to all the luxuries handed to her, she would do just as he did once. She would get cocky. Her pride would catch up with her.
Money and status had a way of changing people.
The apartment she chose confused him. The salary of this job would more than pay for a better place. Modesty. Or maybe it was a show. If she had accepted a better apartment, she would already be showing her true colors too soon.
Then again… her confidence was through the floor. Even in high-end clothes, she looked at her feet when talking about herself. She was either a good actress, or he might have been wrong…
No, he hadn't been that wrong in a long time, not since her father. This time he wouldn't be tricked. He would catch her, and then he would rip the rug right out from under her.
