Page 110 of Sticks & Serpents

“No,” I said firmly. “I’m done regretting things that make me feel alive. I'll be at the estate in ten minutes. You will listen to me. You won't like what happens if you don't."

I hung up the phone before my father could fire off another lecture. The tension coiled in my gut as I drove to the estate, the familiar route only amplifying the memories that had haunted me for years. Each turn brought me closer to the office—the same office where every major decision about my life had been made without me.

The Sinclaire estate loomed ahead, its pristine façade a façade for the chaos that lurked within. As I parked and stepped out, the cold air bit at my skin, but I welcomed it. It sharpened my focus. I pushed through the heavy door and moved down the hallway before I entered the office.

The sight was all too familiar—trophies gleaming on shelves, reminders of victories that felt hollow now. Family pictures adorned the walls, but they meant nothing to me. They captured smiles that never reached our eyes, moments frozen in time while we were crumbling inside.

My father stood behind his desk, arms crossed tightly over his chest. His impatience radiated from him like a heatwave. “You’ve embarrassed this family, Damien,” he said, his voice cold and clipped.

I didn’t react; instead, I stepped closer to him, feeling a surge of anger bubbling beneath my skin.

“Oh, you mean like you embarrassed yourself when you let Mom ruin me?” The words slipped out before I could think better of them.

For just a moment, his expression flickered—something almost human crossed his features—but it vanished as quickly as it came. He replaced it with cold indifference, a mask he wore so effortlessly that it sickened me.

“We’re not discussing this,” he stated flatly.

I could feel the walls closing in around us, suffocating both of us in our own failures. But this time? I wasn’t going to let him brush aside what had happened to me—or what I’d become because of him and her. My fists clenched at my sides as I held his gaze.

I smirked, tilting my head as I studied my father’s rigid expression. “No, we are. You knew. You knew what she was doing to me, and you looked the other way.”

Silence stretched between us, thick with unspoken truths. I stepped closer, lowering my voice to a deadly whisper that hung in the air like a loaded gun.

“And if you don’t do exactly what I tell you, I’m going to make sure the entire world knows too.”

His breath hitched, and for a split second, I saw the facade crack.

“You think blackmailing me is going to work?” he shot back, but there was an edge of uncertainty lacing his words.

I leaned against the desk, feeling the smooth surface beneath my palms as I locked eyes with him. “I think you care more about your reputation than your own son.” The anger radiated off me like heat waves, each word designed to cut deeper than the last. “And I think if people find out exactly what’s been happening in this family, your precious legacy will burn to the ground.”

His jaw clenched tighter than a vice grip, and I could sense his irritation bubbling beneath the surface. But this time? This time he didn’t have control.

For the first time in our endless dance of manipulation and power plays, there was something uncertain flickering in his expression—fear mixed with anger.

I leaned in further. “You’re going to pull every fucking string you have and get me on the Serpents next season.”

The name rolled off my tongue—my escape route from this suffocating life.

“You’re going to make sure no one questions it,” I pressed on.

His gaze hardened once more as if he was wrestling with whether or not to yield to my demands. The seconds dragged out painfully long as he considered his options—his reputation weighed against the possibility of exposing everything he’d tried so hard to hide.

“And in return,” I added slowly, deliberately, “I walk away.”

I leaned back against the wall, crossing my arms, waiting for my father to say something—anything—that would hint he might actually care. But all I got was the hard set of his jaw, the way his eyes flicked over me with a mix of anger and disappointment.

“No team will take you after what happened on the ice,” he said, voice steady but laced with irritation. “You’ve ruined everything, Damien.”

I shrugged, not even feeling the weight of his words. “That’s not my problem.”

He straightened up, leaning forward on the desk like I’d just insulted him. “Not your problem? You think it’s just going to blow over? You think I can make this go away?”

“Figure it out,” I shot back. “That’s what you’re good at, right? Pulling strings and fixing messes?”

He scoffed, shaking his head as if I’d lost my mind. “You’re living in a fantasy if you think that’s going to work this time. Your name is mud right now. No one wants to deal with a kid who can’t keep his temper in check.”

“Maybe they should learn how to deal with it then.” I stepped closer, letting the anger boil over. “You want me to play nice while everyone else gets away with their bullshit?”

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