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Chapter 8

  • His shoes clicked on the floor as he walked down the shiny polished hall.
  • As he neared his father's office, he could also hear the faint mumblings coming from his stepbrothers in the second hall.
  • The maids followed him with each step he took, with heads bent low in submission.
  • His suit jacket swung over his left shoulder, with his right hand in his pocket, a cold look on his handsome face.
  • He nudged the door to his father's office with his right leg, walking in with all his glory.
  • "You are so bold now that you can't even dare to knock." His father's voice boomed from behind the table, the walls bouncing his unusually deep voice.
  • "Why bother when you are never going to answer anyway?" He said, standing tall, his charisma never faltering.
  • "Besides, that's the only way you can tell it's me. " He deadpanned, looking at his father with no emotion on his face.
  • "Ah, I see." His father chuckled, as the sound darted off the walls. "You are still as cold as I remember you to be."
  • "It's what you wanted, isn't it?" He asked sarcastically, his head tilting to the side.
  • His sarcastic reply caught his father off guard, making his eyes widen a little and a sharp laugh escape his chest.
  • "Get to it, old man. I don't have all day. I have places to be and people to kill. What do you want? "
  • His sentence rang into the air, cutting his father's laugh midway before a serious look materialised on his face.
  • His father ignored his question and walked around the table and over to the door.
  • "Come, eat. We would talk over lunch." His father explained, with his hands behind his back.
  • Marcos felt his body twitch in rage as he stared at his father's leaving figure. His hard gaze burned a hole through his father's head.
  • His father's lips curved into an amused grin, his eyes taunting him as he peered at him.
  • "Are you going to stand there and continue murdering me with your eyes?"
  • He could hear the mockery in his father's deep voice. He knew his father enjoyed this, but he would never give his father the satisfaction of seeing him tick.
  • "If it does the job, then I would gladly continue." He replied smugly, his voice empty and cold, as he walked past his father.
  • He strode into the dining halls, where a large table fit enough to host thirty people stood, chairs all lined up accordingly under the table.
  • Different sorts of meals lay on the table like it was a feast.
  • Without waiting for his father, or anyone else, he walked over to the far end of the table and sat on the chair.
  • He felt the glares coming from his stepbrothers and stepmothers but ignored them all.
  • His gaze scanned the vast dining hall before settling on a teenager, his back against a pillar, his face detached.
  • The young boy looked like he wanted to be anywhere else but here.
  • Their eyes connected, but only for a brief moment because the young boy snapped his head quickly to the side with a scoff and not before throwing a glare his way.
  • A soft chuckle escaped his lips at the childish behaviour of his younger brother, bringing him back to the days when his brother was still a child.
  • A voice pulled him out of his mini trance, snapping him out of his thoughts.
  • "I think you have the wrong seat." The voice chuckled, drawing closer to him.
  • His head snapped to the sound of the voice, but he knew whose voice it was.
  • "I never make a mistake." He retorted, his eyes dropping like they usually did out of boredom.
  • "Then I think this is your first." He heard his father chuckle, " By the way, thanks for keeping my seat warm."
  • "Take the other seat." He ordered, his face calm and cold but his voice firm and loud enough for everyone to hear.
  • "How rude!"
  • A fist banged onto the table and a harsh voice echoed.
  • "How dare you order my father around and try to tell him where to sit!"
  • Marcos raised a brow, a small dry laugh coming from him, as a dark light flickered in his eyes.
  • It had been so long since he had had a feud with any of his stepfamilies because he was never around. He had arrived, and it wasn't even up to ten minutes, but a drama was about to happen.
  • This was so going to be interesting if they thought he was still the same.
  • "If he is your father, then how is he to us then, and what are we to him?"
  • Marcos' lips twitched and threatened to break into a smile as he stared at the reddened face of his stepbrother.
  • "Cat got your tongue?" He sneered at his stepbrother when he got no response.
  • "No. I was only looking for the right words to say it in, but I guess I don't need them since you want my answer raw, "he replied with a smirk.
  • "The great and mighty Frederick, do tell us what we are to your dearly beloved father." Marcos mocked him with a huge grin on his face.
  • Frederick clasped his fists beside him, his jaw clenching as he gritted his teeth.
  • "You are nothing but bastards. My father decided to pity you so you would not end up on the streets, but now you are taking it too far. "
  • The faces of his other stepbrothers and stepmother's turned into a scowl as they growled at him.
  • A hearty laugh erupted from Marcos as he held his head back, tears staining the corners of his eyes due to how hard he laughed.
  • "I am so sorry. I didn't mean it, it just came out of me," he said in between chuckles, wiping the tears from the corners of his eyes.
  • " I always knew you were stupid, Frederick, and I never expected you to become a fool no matter how many years passed." He mused, staring at the furious look on Frederick's face.
  • "How dare you insult me like that?! What gave you the galls?" Frederick demanded furiously, banging his fists harder onto the table, his eyes flashing a bright yellow.
  • "Shut up. Even now, I am still right, and do you think flashing your eyes was supposed to get a reaction from me? " He sighed, shaking his head.
  • "Frederick, Frederick, Fredrick. You still have a lot to learn from my father concerning me. "
  • "Why you bas —"
  • "Enough!"
  • His father's voice rang out, cutting whatever Frederick wanted to say.
  • "I called you all here to have a family lunch and to announce something important to you, not this nonsense."
  • He roared, his anger soaring through the roof, making everyone in the room freeze in fright.
  • "Now you decide to speak?" Marcos snorted, his voice indifferent, and his position unchanged.
  • "One more word from you, Marcos, and that is the last straw." He barked, angrily, his face flushed in rage.
  • "You can't do shit to me, old man." He jeered.
  • "Quiet! Not a word from any of you. Everyone sits down and eats quietly." His father yelled, his voice commanding, as everyone took a seat.
  • Marcos sneered in his head, but a smile broke on his face when his little brother sat next to him.
  • He watched his father take a seat at the other end of the table and sent a sly smirk toward Fredrick.
  • A cunning smile appeared on his lips as he watched Fredrick bend a spoon in anger, his mother trying to coax him.
  • Lunch might just take an interesting turn, he thought as he smirked.