William hated dinner parties. Well, it wasn't that he hated them, so much that they were, overall, very disagreeable to him. All the stuffy politicians sitting around politicking, and their spouses sitting about gossiping was utterly boring in a five year olds eyes. Every time he saw his nanny come in (interrupting his afternoon cartoons, mind you) holding a smart (and uncomfortable) little suit and tie, and his father arrived in the doorway to give him the "this is a very important night for daddy" speech, William knew he was in for an extremely boring night.

Upon arrival, people would whisk about him in their fancy dresses and suits fawning over what a handsome young boy he was- and that he was.

William's dark black hair contrasted starkly with his pale skin, and when in a suit, looked as if he had stepped right out of an old black and white photo. He hadn't quite grown out of his baby fat, a fact that women and men of these parties exploited to no end with the incessant pinching of his cheeks.

As the foyer and sitting room of the Braxton manor grew alive with chatter, the bell was soon rung for dinner. William would go and eat his fish fingers in the kitchen while the adults would eat in the dining room. This particular evening as his father carried him into the dining room to bid the guests good night, Lady Fitzler (a rude and boisterous woman, the wife of one of Sir Braxton's parliamentary friends) remarked loudly "He is such a darling boy, but he looks nothing like you Eric! You sure he's yours?" provoking laughter from the entire table. It was not a mean laughter, but William was affected by it nonetheless. He had always known he looked different from his father, but he hadn't really noticed all of the differences until that night; his fathers patch of light brownish hair was nothing like the inky black mop atop his head; his grandmother had even remarked that when his father was young, he would scream and yell and kick when he did not get his way- but William was the opposite. He would appear to comply to his caretakers wishes, then proceed to charm his way into getting what he wanted. The more he thought about it, the more he realized that he and his father were nothing alike.

All of this new information was too much for a five year old to bear and he dug his head into the crook of his fathers neck, clutching him tightly. Eric Braxton, sensing the shift in his sons mood, swiftly bid everyone goodnight for him and saw him upstairs, into the hands of the nanny.

Later that night after all of the guests had cleared out into their limos and fancy cars (some into taxi's that had been called after a long trail of empty glasses had been spotted following them throughout the course of the night), William's father stopped in to bid his son goodnight. With a brief "goodnight William," and flick of the light switch, he had already set off down the hallway when he heard the sound of an anxious, "Daddy…daddy.." from his son's room. He stuck his head back into the room and replied "Yes?". Staring at his hands, William found himself tearfully asking,"Daddy, why don't I look like you?". There it was. The question Eric Braxton had been dreading, especially since his wife…no. He would not, could not, think about her, not after what she had done to them. With a heavy sigh, he took a seat on the edge of his sons bed.

"Well…" he hesitated "Do you remember your mother William?"

Face scrunched in concentration,trying to scrape together memories of a woman he barely knew, he replied "I remember that she left…and you were really sad…".

"But do you remember what she looked like?"

"No…not really. Is that bad?" William asked looking at his father with wide eyes.

"Of course not. But she…you look like her".

"Really?"

With an uneasy smile, Mr. Braxton replied "Yes, really". With an air of finality he patted the top of his son's head and bid him goodnight. From behind him he could hear the faint murmur of an "I love you", but he did not turn around. Sighing to himself he shook his head and sat on the edge of his bed thinking that this was not the time for his son to know the truth.