"Dad, if you're going to preach to me about good or bad, then please, don't," Gideon argued. He didn't flinch under his father's piercing gaze.
"Then shall I be forced to endure this every single day?" Huxley retorted, his voice rising, sharp enough to cut through the stillness of the study.
"You cannot publicly humiliate your in-laws. The people already label you as wicked, a monster, do you want to prove them right?" Huxley slumped into his high-backed velvet chair, the weight of his crown seeming to pull at his shoulders, his exhaustion as palpable as his anger.
Gideon remained unmoved by those words. "People have a habit of changing sides whenever it suits their convenience. I don't care what they think." He looked his father dead in the eye, his expression darkening. "It's true that I'm wicked by nature. If they want a monster, I'll give them one."
