Chapter 8 "so bold"

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.