Chapter Eight: A Family's Pride
Back at the mansion, the atmosphere had grown tense, the once calm and orderly halls now carrying an undercurrent of unease that even the servants could feel but dared not speak of, and within that silence, Damion walked steadily through the corridor, his expression sharp and controlled, though beneath it a storm of anger brewed.
His steps echoing faintly against the polished floor as he made his way toward the inner chambers where his father resided, his mind already set on what needed to be said and what must be done to restore the honor that had been stained.
When he reached the large wooden doors, he paused briefly before raising his hand and knocking, the sound firm and urging, carrying authority without hesitation as he spoke, "Father, it's Damion, I need to have a word with you," his voice calm yet carrying a weight that made it clear this was no trivial matter.
From within, a voice responded almost immediately, "Come in," Frank's tone relaxed, unaware of the storm that was about to enter his room.
Damion pushed the door open and stepped inside, his eyes instantly taking in the scene before him, his father seated comfortably on the bed, two voluminous women pressed against his sides, their laughter soft, their movements suggestive as they clung to him like ornaments meant only for pleasure.
For a brief moment, Damion's gaze lingered on them with indifference before shifting back to his father, his expression unchanged as Frank glanced at him with mild impatience.
"Speak," Frank said, urging him forward, clearly uninterested in delaying his own comfort any longer than necessary.
Damion wasted no time, stepping closer with a straight posture, his tone sharp and direct as he began, "Father, rumors are spreading about the Hoffman family," his words cutting through the room instantly, causing the faint amusement on Frank's face to fade ever so slightly.
"What rumors?" Frank asked, his voice lower now, though still calm, as if expecting something insignificant, something beneath concern, but Damion's next words shattered that assumption completely.
"Rumors about how weak our family has become," he said, each word measured, deliberate, "that even an ordinary maid had the audacity to permanently cripple the second son of the Hoffman's,"
As the sentence hung in the air, a heavy silence followed, one that seemed to press down on everything within the room, before Damion continued, his tone growing colder and sharper.
"And it doesn't end there, our rival family, the Grayjoy, are actively pushing this narrative, spreading it further, ensuring that our name is dragged through the dirt across the entire city."
Frank's expression began to change slowly.
Subtly at first before getting more visibly.
The calmness on his face twisted, his features tightening as anger crept in, his eyes darkening as the weight of those words settled in his mind, the humiliation, the insult, the challenge to his authority, to his family's dominance, all of it building into something ugly and dangerous.
"Get out," he barked suddenly, his voice sharp and filled with irritation as he turned to the women at his sides.
Startled, the two women quickly scrambled off the bed, their earlier confidence gone as they hurried toward the door, their faces filled with unease as they left the room in silence, not daring to look back.
Once they were gone, the room fell into a heavy stillness.
Frank leaned forward slightly, his gaze fixed on Damion, no longer relaxed, no longer indifferent, but focused and serious.
"What should we do?" he asked, his tone calmer now, controlled, though the anger still lingered beneath the surface, waiting for an outlet.
Damion did not hesitate.
"I believe we should respond with strength," he said, his voice steady, confident, as if he had already thought this through countless times before speaking it aloud, "we should forcefully take over the Grayjoy family's business on the east side of the city, they are weaker than us in military power, and as it has always been, the strong take from the weak."
Frank listened carefully, his expression thoughtful now, his earlier anger shifting into calculation as he considered the proposal, weighing the risks against the reward, and after a brief pause, he spoke again, "And the city lord?" his voice carried a hint of caution, "what if he decides to intervene?"
A faint smile appeared on Damion's lips, subtle but confident, as if this concern had already been accounted for.
"We increase the tax paid on that business by ten percent," he replied smoothly, "with that, the city lord will have no reason to interfere, he will turn a blind eye to our… internal matters," his smile widening slightly at the end, a quiet satisfaction in his tone as he laid out the plan with precision.
Frank's lips curled into a grin as he nodded slowly, clearly pleased, the anger within him now redirected into something far more dangerous, something calculated and scamming.
"That's a good plan, Damion," he said, his voice filled with approval, "you are worthy of being my first son," and there was pride in his words, a recognition of the ruthlessness that defined their family, a trait he valued above all else.
Damion inclined his head slightly, accepting the praise without arrogance, though his expression remained serious, as if there was still one matter left unresolved.
"And one more thing, Father," he said, his tone shifting slightly, becoming colder, more decisive.
Frank raised an eyebrow, waiting.
Damion's eyes hardened.
"Beth must die."
The words fell into the room like a final verdict, leaving no room for doubt, no space for negotiation, and for a moment, silence followed, thick and heavy, before a slow, dark smile spread across Frank's face, one that spoke of cruelty, of agreement, of a decision already made.
In that moment, far away in the cold darkness of her cell, Beth's fate had already been sealed.
But at this point she would not mind, as long as she was reunited with Li Shen