Trent was ready to receive a beating of his life and clean up after his master was done with his rampage. He'd been with the Blakeson family for all his life, he served his father before him.
During his youthful years, Gilbert had a very weak will according his father anyway. He was full of life and innocence, his mother was able to shield him from his father's cruelty until she died unexpectedly.
That's when everything changed for him, his father made it a point to beat that weakness out of him and it worked rather well. Trent watched as he was robbed of his loving and carefree nature, turning into an ever angry monster that was always hungry for more.
Of course he was just help, there was nothing he could've done to stop the change. That's why he never left, that's why he endured everything thrown at him because he felt guilty. Maybe Gilbert didn't rember those days, but he did.
He vowed to stay besides him, no matter what he did. He felt responsibility, he may not have created the monster in front of him but he did nothing to stop it from festering either.
But sothing unexpected happened in that mont of rage, Gilbert let out a pathetic laugh of defeat.
He sat down on the couch, one hand covering his eyes and just laughed his never ending troubles, hopefully away. He couldn't believe he had to admit yet another defeat.
He was sure he'd win with Khan by his side. He wasn't his personal lawyer or anything, but they always helped each other when in a pickle. None of the rich needed contracts to bind themselves to each other, it was more of an unspoken rule, a rule Khan was willingly breaking without a second thought.
"Why is he refusing to help?" He asked his voice barely a whisper.
"He ntioned sothing about obtaining a client that would make it impossible to represent you." Trent answered, he was still shocked. This new attitude didn't suit his master no longer.
"Is that right. That boy got to him then? Clever. Ever since they got into my peripheral they've been nothing but annoying bugs. The Waynworth seem to be moving my goal posts with each turn I take." He sighed, drinking from the bottle instead of the glass.
"Master, surely you're not giving up? Your father—"
The glass missed him by an inch. It shattered right behind him, the place slled more like alcohol now.
"My father? He's dead. Don't ever bring him up again. Get another bottle, instead of trying to make act rashly, I need to think." He didn't miss a beat as he said.
He bowed. He didn't argue and ran out to get him another bottle of gin. Upon his arrival, he cleaned up the glass shards that littered the floor and quickly left the room without another word.
"Is dad in there?" Isaac asked, he needed to see him.
"Young master Isaac, now is not a good ti, give him so space." Trent warned him.
"But I need to see him, he never has ti, now our house is taken over by wh*res?" He couldn't accept that his father was indeed attempting to replace him, like he was nothing.
"Sir, if you walk through that door and spark an argunt with your father right now, I'm afraid you won't be able to walk out intact."
"I'm already broken, I've done everything to please that man and he doesn't include in anything, I'm sick of it."
The argunt was now getting heated outside of his study room. He could hear everything, with every word it felt like he was chewing on glass.
The door creaked opened, the argunt ceased abruptly. A chill ran down both of their spines, Gilbert appeared at the door.
"Can't you hear that you're causing a racket? You," he said pointing at his son. "If you're courageous enough, enter."
He didn't wait for an answer, as he retreated to his study once more. He could hear more than one set of footsteps approaching.
"Can I be present, master?" Trent asked.
"No. I'm not going to kill my son Trent, now leave us."
He hesitantly bowed and left the room, closing the door behind him. Isaac stood there dumbly, he'd be lying to himself if he claid he wasn't scared. His father was too calm, sothing he wasn't used to.
"Are you just going to stand there like an idiot or take a seat? Or did your anger towards suddenly disappear now that you've co face to face with ?" He mocked.
Isaac's anger started bubbling up once again. He approached carefully, sitting opposite to his father. Rejecting the drink he was offered. They sat there in silence, Isaac didn't quite know where to begin.
"Why are you trying to replace ?" He didn't an for it to happen, but his voice ca out shaking.
Gilbert simply laughed, "is that all you want to know? Don't you see with your own eyes that you're a failure?"
"What happened to my mother?" He asked ignoring his previous statent.
The mood quickly changed in the room, even his father was a bit shocked by what he chose to ask next. Though the expression quickly changed to one that was unreadable.
"You're sure you want to know?" Taking his nodding as consent, he continued, "i killed her, with these two hands."
Isaac had suspected but hearing him admit it so nonchalantly made his face hot and he boiled with anger. He didn't rember much about those days, but he rembered the feeling, it was warm.
"Why?" He choked, on the verge of tears.
"Just a Blakeson tradition, you want your son to trive, take care of his weaknesses. That worked poorly for you, I'll admit, I'm to bla for being so easy on you." Gilbert didn't intend to hide anything from him, what's the worst he could do anyway, throw a tantrum?
"Didn't you love her?"
"I loved you more, that's why you're alive. I've spoiled you too much Isaac, that's why you're being replaced. You can no longer be my successor."
"Then why don't you just kill too?" He asked defiantly.
"I have my weaknesses I surely need to work on, I can't do it because I'm too weak."
Isaac shook were he sat. He couldn't understand, he thought family was everything to this man who sat opposite him. His world was completely tossed upside down, part of him wished he had never gathered enough courage to want to know.
He got up to leave the room.
"Oh and Isaac, don't walk around causing more trouble than you already have."
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