Mad

Today was the day. Today he would finally tell his parents what he had decided for his future. It had been a topic of conversation since he was born, but it was only three years ago when his father warned him he should seriously consider a career choice. It wasn't pressing; Damon knew whatever he chose, his parents would have something to say about it. Besides, there was just one field he was interested in: science. Machinery, to be specific, and he knew he was damn good at it; the world could benefit from his talent. Now, at seventeen, he was prepared to tell the strangers he called Mom and Dad.

As Damon walked through the mansion, he recited the conversation in his head. He wasn't afraid of his parents but he wanted to be sure they understood him perfectly. He was old enough to make his own decisions, not to be their little toy anymore, and that he could be a responsible adult without years of military training. The Lyttons were big supporters of the war; every generation served in the army. Well, Damon wasn't getting wrapped up in his mother's traditions. He was a Baird, and they were known for being stubborn and brutally honest.

He stopped at the door to the east wing parlor. Both Jocelin and Elinor would be inside enjoying their afternoon brandy, completely oblivious to the existence of their son. Maybe today is the day they'll realize I'm a living human being. He almost wished he hadn't fired his nanny. Suddenly he wanted her to knock on the door for him and announce him like she always did, but he was seventeen. He could face these people on his own.

Taking a deep breath, he held it and knocked. The sound echoed in the quiet expanse of the hall and it felt like an eternity had passed before Jocelin called, "Yes?"

Damon exhaled. "It's Damon, sir." Your son. "May I come in?"

"Come ahead."

Damon opened the door to find Jocelin and Elinor situated in the plush wingback chairs in the center of the room. The atmosphere was tense and he could imagine his parents wondering why he would bother them. It wasn't just Elinor's scathing glare that made him uncomfortable but the room itself. When he was younger, this was the boundary between a kid's world and the adults. No matter how many times he was here, he always felt small and unnecessary. Maybe it was the row of bookshelves lined with the impressive history of the Bairds and Lyttons, or maybe it was the portrait of the founder of the Baird fortune hanging on the wall that unnerved him.

"What do you want?" Elinor snapped. She had an open book on her lap. "Your father and I are very busy."

"I'm sorry, Mother, but I was hoping to borrow a few moments of your time." He picked his words carefully. He knew calling her mother would make her seethe—she always insisted she was much too young to be a mother—but it made her listen. "I wanted to inform you both that I've decided on my career path."

The formality of it all made Damon squirm internally. If he had his way, he would have said, "Fuck your family tradition, I'm doing what I want now." But that only worked in a normal dysfunctional family. In the Baird family, it was all about stiff jaws and propriety.

Jocelin looked wary yet excited. "Does this mean you've given the army some thought?"

I haven't lost a second of sleep over it. "I've considered it but it doesn't seem very … me. My science scores have always been the highest in my class, and I've been done with school for two years now. Colleges wanted me before I ever graduated and medical schools were interested in my designs—but that isn't something I can commit to. I have the paperwork ready to go in the mail for something that I can really picture myself doing." This was the moment of truth. Damon watched their reactions carefully. "Father, Mother, I've decided to become an engineer."

The silence was immediately thicker. He waited for the outburst he'd expected to follow but the only sign of distress was Elinor's shockingly pale face.

Jocelin touched her hand and stared at his son as if he was speaking another language. "Damon, are you sure about this?" Of course the magistrate would try to calmly talk him out of his decision; Jocelin hadn't gotten to his position without becoming a master of manipulation. Damon wasn't falling for it.

"I'm positive. With the college I've chosen, I can begin the courses immediately and they already have job opportunities lined up for me. They said with my talent, I could finish their classes in two years, maybe less. This is something I"—he paused, unsure if he should show such weakness to his parents—"yeah, something I really, really want to do."

"Like hell you do," Elinor hissed, snapping her book shut as she stood. "You are part of the Lytton family line and you have a duty to join the army. No son of mine is going to waste his life with machines."

Damon clenched his fists, his rage immediately boiling to the surface. It's always her. She has to try to take everything away from me. "Oh, so I'm suddenly your son when it suits your needs? I've been your little pawn since I was born. I stayed where you put me, I didn't object to the way you ran my life even though you were never there. I did everything I was told. Well, Elinor, in case you forgot your son's age for the twelfth time, I'm fucking seventeen and I can do whatever I want! And what I don't want is you controlling my life anymore."

Elinor stomped toward him and with a booming smack, his cheek was on fire. He was taken off guard; she'd never hit him before, but she had also never been around long enough to have to punish him. That was the nanny's job or, if he was in serious trouble, Jocelin's.

Damon rubbed his cheek but even with the surprise, his anger hadn't burned out yet. He balled his shaking fists, swallowing the urge to retaliate, but his nanny had raised him better than to hit a woman even if he hated her.

"Yes, you are only seventeen, Damon," Elinor said, her voice quiet and trembling with her fury, "which means you are still a child. And as a child, you listen to your father and I. We will not tolerate this attitude of yours, and as long as you are a Baird-Lytton, you will join the army or else lose your inheritance. Am I understood?"

Sneaky bitch. She had him right where she wanted him. He wouldn't give up the family fortune to pursue a career choice and she knew it; it was too much to forfeit. Damon wanted a comfortable life, and although he hated being used, he hadn't had to struggle for anything. Now he couldn't imagine living a normal life.

"I said, am I understood, Damon?"

"Yes, ma'am," he grumbled, defeated.

"Good. I want to see those papers. Go get them immediately."

He grit his teeth. She was going to destroy his hard work. It wasn't just filling out forms, there was a fifteen page paper to go with it. For a moment, Damon wondered if the family fortune was worth the heartache.

"Now, Damon," Elinor said. Her tone didn't leave any room for an argument.

Damon stormed out of the parlor to retrieve the papers, knocking over fragile and priceless art lining the halls as he went. One day she would get what she deserved, he decided, and he wouldn't shed a tear for her. In fact, Damon prayed the day would come sooner when both Elinor and Jocelin would disappear from his life.