CHAPTER 17: The Tyrant's Rage

TRAYTON’S POV:

Outside, the sky gets darker, the mansion's lights casting elongate shadows across the manicured lawns. And inside its walls, emotions simmer, poised to erupt like a dormant volcano. I pace impatiently across the gilded floor of my study. My face, usually adorned with an icy composure, is now twisted into a mask of anger. My finely tailored suit seems to tighten around me, unable to contain the storm brewing within.

At the center of this tempest is Braxton, my son, my only heir. Young and intelligent, with a countenance that reflects both his privileged upbringing and his own sense of independence. His defiance has reached a pinnacle earlier today, when he stood before the assembled press and declared his rejection of the carefully arranged marriage proposal I had orchestrated.

A crystal decanter of aged whiskey rests atop my desk, and I pour myself a generous measure. The liquid gleams amber in the soft light, mirroring the fire that burns within my heart. I then br