The tension in the room was so thick I could feel it pressed against my chest. My father leaned back into his chair, fingers drumming against the mahogany desk, eyes sharp enough to cut glass. I glared right back, jaw tight, every muscle in my body coiled like a spring.
"Tomorrow, you go. No excuses. You will respect the chain of command, or you will regret it. And trust me, I do not take lightly anyone who undermines me." He threatened.
I leaned forward, "I'm not undermining you! I just-"
"Just what?" His voice rose a notch, sharp and dangerous. "You think you know better than your father? That your life, your education, your position in this family, is something you can handle on your terms?"
I clenched my teeth, the room got hotter and smaller with every breath I took in.
"Maybe I just… want some say in my life!" I snapped.
He leaned forward with narrowed eyes. "Say? You want a say? You don't get a say, Adrian. Not in this family. Not in this world."
I slammed my fist against the table, standing abruptly. "Fine. I'll go to the damn school. But don't expect me to do it like some golden puppet!"
He slouched back into the chair, unmoved, but I caught the faintest smirk tugged at the corner of his mouth – amused, maybe even impressed by my fire.
"Before you run off," he says, voice dropping into a calm tone, "tell Matteo that I wish to speak to him. Now."
The moment I stepped out of my father's chamber, the tension in my chest didn't ease. If anything, it tightened, like a fist gripping my ribcage. The hallways of the mansion stretched before me – long, cold and void of emotions.
Every echo of my loafers sounded louder than it should have, as if announcing my failure to the world.
Matteo's door was at the far end, flanked by two silent guards whose eyes flicked toward me and back again. I ignored them, my hands balled into fists. The door itself was slightly ajar, the faint sound of classical music drifting out. I peeked into the room.
"Adrian," he said, not looking up at me. He was lounging in a high-backed chair, legs crossed, fingers drumming on the armrest. His hair caught the light – perfect as always – and he wore that calm, untouchable expression that made my chest tighten with both irritation and awe.
I cleared my throat. "Dad wants to see you. Now."
He lifted his gaze slowly and it was like a physical force – the weight of someone who knew he was the golden boy, the heir, the one who always got it right.
"Hm, I see. And he sent you to deliver the message personally, I presume?" his tone was casual, almost amused.
I gritted my teeth. "Yes. Now get up."
He stood, graceful, controlled, every inch the person I would never quite match. He towered over me by just enough to remind me I was the younger brother. "Alright, little brother. Lead the way, then."
As we walked through the corridors, I couldn't help but observe him – the way his suit fit perfectly, the faint scent of cologne he always wore, the calm confidence in every movement.
He was everything I wasn't. The golden boy. Dad's pride. The next leader of the family. And I… I was just Adrian. The one who always stumbled, always questioned, always got under his skin without realizing it.
"So," he said casually, breaking the silence. "He finally decided it's my turn to endure one of his charming lectures?"
"Something like that," I muttered.
He smirked, and it irked me. "You sound tense. Afraid I'll steal the spotlight?"
I glared at him. "Don't flatter yourself."
"You don't have to be so defensive," he said lightly. "Besides, you'll get used to it. Being in Dad's chambers is always a bit… suffocating."
I hesitated, glancing at him. "You… you didn't always make it look so easy, Matteo."
He laughed softly, a warm, teasing sound.
"Easy? Maybe. Comfortable? Never. Every day is a chess game. But some of us… are better at it than others." He shot me a look, sharp but not cruel. Just teasing, like he was enjoying seeing me squirm a little.
I huffed. "You mean you're better at it. Not me."
"Perhaps," he conceded, one eyebrow raised. "But that's why you have to learn, little brother. You'll see. Stanton will be your first real test."
I stiffened. "You know about the transfer?"
"Of course I know," he said casually. "Father mentioned it. I also know you missed your first day. Typical Adrian." He smiled faintly, it was infuriating how easy it was for him to mock me without raising his voice.
"Typical Adrian?" I snapped, my temper fraying. "You mean the one who actually tries?"
He chuckled. "Relax. I'm teasing. You'll be fine. Stanton isn't a battlefield… unless you make it one.
I glared, but the words lingered in my mind. Matteo's calm, collected tone made it hard to stay angry. He always seemed untarnished by Dad's heavy hand, by the family's pressure.
We walked in silence for a moment. Then he said, almost casually, "By the way… you might encounter someone familiar there."
I froze mid-step. "Someone familiar?"
He glanced at me, letting the words sink in.
"Yes. Don't let it distract you. Just…keep your head down and do what you're supposed to do."
I narrowed my eyes. "Someone I know?"
"Possibly," he said, his smirk returning. "But I'm not saying more. Some things are better discovered firsthand."
I gritted my teeth. His tone was too casual, too teasing, too much like he already knew something I didn't.
We reached our father's chambers. Matteo stopped, adjusted his cufflinks, and glanced at me. "You know," he said lightly, "maybe one day you'll be the one giving orders, and I'll be the one doing the running around."
I snorted. "In your dreams."
He shrugged, leaning back slightly. "Maybe. But remember this: It's not about who you want to be. It's about who you become."
I rolled my eyes, but the words burrowed in.
Matteo always knew the right thing to say – or the wrong thing, depending on how you looked at it – to make me doubt myself and think at the same time. I stared down Matteo's back as he entered dad's chambers.
Leaving him to his fate, I walked back to my room, the weight of the day pressing harder than ever. The argument with dad, the conversation with Matteo, the shadow of the girl he hinted at… it all mingled into a storm I couldn't quite control. I collapsed onto my bed, muscles stiff, mind racing. I stared at the ceiling, counting the cracks in the plaster, thinking of everything that waited for me tomorrow.
Somewhere in the quiet, I let out a long breath, and finally, sleep found me.