Claimed by my Bully Brother

Her Wrong Choice

Lucian



“One.”

The cane cuts through the air. Then it lands. The sound cracks across the room like lightning striking wood.

Pain explodes across my back.

I don’t move.

“Two.”

Another strike.

Sir Ronald’s voice counting the strokes is calm compared to the chaos going on in my body as it receives each strike.

I clench my jaw.

“Three.”

The cane whistles again.

This one lands harder. My fingers curl into the carpet beneath my knees.

Still, I don’t make a sound.

“Four.”

Grandpa’s voice rises behind me.

“I warned you, Lucian.”

Another strike.

“You will not become that man.”

Five.

“You will not embarrass this family the way your father did.”

Six.

“You will not grow into a useless disappointment.”

The cane cuts deeper into my back. But the words hurt more. I’ve learned from Grandpa over the years that love makes you a useless disappointment. There is no possible way I'll become what he preaches against because I have loved no one… including him… or a thing.

With the pace and impact dropping with each strike, I think the one who will end up disappointed is me.

"Seven," Sir Ronald’s voice drops slightly as well.

“Sir, I don’t think you should continue.” The housekeeper pleads. “You should consider your age…”

“Age…” Grandpa snaps, but I don’t hear another word. Because all I see is her face.

My mom’s face.

Even after all these years, age has done almost nothing to her beauty.

How does evil age like that?

Time is supposed to change people. Soften them. Wrinkle them. Carve regret into their faces. But that woman looks as if time has politely stepped aside for her.

Her hair is still that same deep chestnut colour that used to fall over my face when she leaned down to kiss my forehead ‘goodnight’. It’s longer now, smoother, flowing over her shoulders like silk she never had to pay for. Her skin is flawless in a way that makes it impossible to tell where youth ended and maturity began.

And her eyes… Those eyes are exactly the same… even from afar. Beautiful in a way that always made people listen when she spoke.

Her kind of beauty doesn’t ask for attention; it commands it.

No wonder the girl looked familiar when I saw her. She is my mother’s daughter after all.

“Eight.”

The cane lands again. My shoulders tense, but I still don’t give Grandpa the satisfaction of a sound.

Pain spreads like fire under my skin.

It feels familiar… Just like fourteen years ago… the six-year-old me clutching a suitcase wheel.

Running.

Crying.

“Mom! Please don’t go!”

She doesn’t stop… Even when I grab her arm… Even when I beg… when I promised to always take my milk in the morning… never to sneak into her room at night again… Never to scatter my toys everywhere again… never… nothing I said worked.

“Ten.”

I blink.

“That completes the intended number, sir.” Sir Ronald’s voice cuts across the room again.

Grandpa exhales sharply. The cane lowers. For a moment the room is silent except for my breathing.

Then Grandpa starts ranting again.

“You have been in the same class for three years.” His voice drips with disgust. “Three.”

“All thanks to you.” I mumble.

He slams his cane against the floor. “I have allowed the school to fail you every single year. Do you know why I did that?”

I don’t respond. I already know the answer. He gives the same speech the last two years when the session begins.

“So you would learn discipline.” Grandpa continues. He stops in front of me. “So you would pass properly.”

We say the last cliché sentence together, mine in my head. “So you don’t end up like your father.”

Silence stretches. Then his voice turns colder.

“If you fail again this year, you will forget about inheriting the Hale name.”

Another pause… proof that I don’t care.

“You will leave this house. And you will never return.”

After some seconds of no response from me despite his warnings, Sir Ronald speaks again, breaking the building tension.

“Sir, perhaps Master Lucian should return to his room to have his wounds treated.”

Grandpa doesn’t even hesitate.

“No. He will go to school. He will sit in that classroom.” His voice lowers. “And he will remember this pain every time he considers wasting away his life.”

I wish that were the case. Every time he hits me like this, I hate that woman even more.

Today feels different, though. Today, I feel angry because the sense of purpose I had just a few days back is now lost. I had thought I could finally avenge the wrong against Dad now that Mom has decided to show her face again. But ever since that day, I have never set my eyes on her daughter again.

Sir Ronald sighs softly. But he helps me stand anyway.

When we get out of the study, the maids rush forward to support me, but I shun them all. I don’t understand why they keep showing me affection when I clearly do not appreciate it.

“Car is ready,” Sir Ronald murmurs quietly.

I don’t respond; I just walk away.

Judging by the time I arrive at Blackthorn, the first class should have started.

I walk down the hallway slowly because of the fresh wounds across my back.

Pain is easy.

Anger is harder.

When I reach the classroom door, I hear Mrs. Cordelia Hawthorne’s voice inside.

Standing beside her at the front of the class is Sera. It’s been days since our encounter; I already assumed she had changed her mind about enrolling here again.

Damn!

She looks adorable in Blackthorn’s Monday uniform, which makes me stare even more.

But not for long.

Mom’s face suddenly flashes in my head, and my anger spikes instantly.

I push the door open, pretending not to see her. The room goes silent. Every head turns… The usual reaction.

Mrs. Hawthorne doesn’t look surprised either… Because, as always, I’ll get on her nerve and she will do what she enjoys the most…send me out.

I didn’t predict the last part, though. She calls out to me just as I'm on my way out to introduce myself to Sera.

She’s really my classmate? I know I’m behind by three years, but I don’t expect us to be in the same class even. Let’s just say fate has a disgusting sense of humour.

The class watches eagerly. I glance once at Seraphina. Her eyes are shining.

“Lucian Hale,” I say flatly.

The moment my name leaves my mouth Sera suddenly blurts out, “Oh! Nice name. I’m Seraphina Whitmore! Most people call me Sera, but I don’t like it.”

She keeps going.

I roll my eyes, shocked by the outburst. With the look on Mrs. Cordelia’s face, I can tell she wasn’t like that before I came.

“I like reading, swimming, dancing, and I hate arrogant people which I think this school might be constructed for people who fit into that description…”

“Seraphina!” Mrs. Cordelia raises her voice. “That will be quite enough.”

Seraphina looks embarrassed. But also… pleased.

Mrs. Cordelia rubs her temples. “You may return to your seat.”

Just before she returns to her seat, she clears her throat. Smiling, she blurts out to me. “I’m so pleased to see you again, Lucian.”

A mischievous smile forms on my face. “I’m so pleased you made the wrong choice.”