Carcel Evander Dawson

After visiting Dad at the company, I found myself torn. Should I check out the apartment he had set up for me, or head straight home? It wasn't an easy decision. Ultimately, I chose the latter—not because I wasn't ready to move out, but because I owed it to my mom to at least tell her properly. She deserved that much.

Dad had a point—I'm not 19 anymore. The only reason I've stayed under her roof this long is because she wanted it that way. She liked having me close, liked to keep an eye on me, making sure I wasn't drifting far from her influence, and at some point I let her do what she wants.

There was a part of me that felt guilty, knowing I chose to live with Nanny instead of her during those early years of my childhood and Nanny didn't raise a heartless bastard—I still consider my parents' feelings, even if I don't always show it. Staying with Mom was my way of trying to balance the scales, of making up for those lost years, even if it meant sacrificing some of my own independence, and endless fights.

That night, I stayed up, pouring over the materials Dad had given me for the project. As I dug into the details, it hit me just how sharp the old man really was. He'd handed me something that work perfectly with my school schedule, like a puzzle piece sliding into place. But just because it fit didn't mean it was easy. No, this was going to be a challenge, and I'd need to step up. I had no experience in this role, so I'd have to work twice as hard to prove I could handle it.

"Wanna hit the club tonight?" Crue's voice snapped me out of my thoughts. He was sitting beside me, his usual laid-back demeanor in full force. It was rare for him to ask me out, and under different circumstances, I might've considered it. But tonight, I had to decline.

"I have to pass on this one," I said, glancing at the stack of papers in front of me. "I've got a prior commitment after class."

"Did you get a job? You seem busy these days," he said, leaning in to get a better look at what I was reading. His eyes widened in surprise. "You really do have a job!"

"This" I raised the paper in my hand. "will determine my freedom  so quit inviting me to parties," I replied, keeping my tone light but firm.

"Geez, who changed you? Where's that freak Carcel?" he teased, his grin widening as he watched my reaction. I simply pointed my thumb to my neck and made a slicing motion, smirking at his exaggerated gasp.

I had already decided that I'd use the apartment Dad bought as a temporary office. I'd told him I didn't want to stay at the company—it'd be a hassle going back and forth between school, the office, and home. This way, I could streamline things, keep everything in one place, and focus.

"Don't overwork yourself, man," Crue said, giving my back a solid pat in the back.

I don't think I needed some concern, In fact nowadays I find it more fulling to do work than to be with drunk people who spits nonsense all the time. 

"Forget the party. How about hitting the gym later for some sparring?" I suggested, knowing Crue was always up for a good match. He was the best sparring partner I could ask for.

"Sure," he replied with a short nod, just as Jade stormed in, her mood foul enough to clear a room.

"Wanna join us, Jade? I think you're ready to hit someone," I said with a smirk. "Sparring could help you blow off some steam."

"Don't play with me, Carcel. I'm this close to losing it and filing a lawsuit against this school," she snapped, her tone serious enough to make me believe she might actually do it.

I raised an eyebrow, leaning back in my chair as I watched her pace. Jade was fiery on a good day, but today she was practically ablaze.

"Sit and calm down," Crue interjected with a sigh, his tone exasperated but steady. I knew where he was coming from. Crue had always been the peacemaker, the one who tried to keep our chaotic tempers in check. It was exhausting work, especially when every day seemed to bring a new crisis to defuse.

Jade sat down and cross her arms "I really cant believe it."

"Believe what?" Crue asked in concern, sometimes my friends do some crazy funny shit and looking at Crue acting like a therapist for a bunch of problematic kids is the funniest.

"I wasn't granted permission to take a few subjects with the scholars," she said in a low voice, her anger turning inward. Crue and I exchanged a glance, both of us trying to process whether we'd heard her right.

"Come again?" Crue said, leaning forward, his brow furrowed in confusion.

"I want to take a class with the scholars," she repeated, and I couldn't help it—I burst out laughing. The whole idea was so ridiculous, so out of left field, that it caught me completely off guard.

Yeah she's going nuts.

Jade shot me a glare, but I was too busy wiping tears from my eyes to care. Crue, rubbing his temples in frustration, looked like he was about to lose it himself.

"Can you just not do that?" he said, his voice strained as if this conversation was physically draining him.

"Why?" Jade shouted back, her eyes flashing with defiance. "Sinclair did it, so why can't I?" Crue's surprise was obvious—he had no idea Sinclair had already pulled something like this. I wasn't shocked, though. It was probably because of that friend of hers.

I was still laughing at the sheer absurdity of it all. "Of course you can do that," I said, catching my breath as I wiped the last of the tears away. "As long as you've got that pin on your uniform, everyone who works here will listen." I paused, trying to suppress another burst of laughter. 

"But Jade, that's not the point. What matters is what comes after. Are you really sure the scholars will welcome you openly? Can you handle all these elites going after you because you chose to be with the scholars?"

I leaned in, raising an eyebrow as I continued. "Of course, we're your friends, Crue and I will support you. But do you think the others will? Will they be happy about this choice of yours?" I stood up, patting her head like she was a little kid. "Think things through, okay?"

With that, I turned and left, leaving Jade to mull over her decisions and the chaos she was about to unleash.

After school, we headed to check out the apartment. The space was just the right size—not too big, not too small—striking that perfect balance. But what I loved most were the huge windows that flooded the room with natural light and the balcony that offered a view of the city skyline. The place was fully furnished, so I didn't have to worry about hauling in furniture or filling it with things that didn't matter. It was all set, ready to be lived in.

Jordan also love his apartment it was across from mine, though he was more shocked by my dad's gesture than anything else. Honestly, I was too. It wasn't every day that he did something like this. After we checked out the place, we headed home. I wanted to dive into the project materials again, to really get my head around them before things kicked off. Lately, that's all that's been on my mind—nothing else seemed to matter.

When I got home, I went straight upstairs to shower, wanting to clear my head so I could focus. As I passed by Mom's study, I noticed the door was slightly ajar. Something made me pause, and as I approached, I overheard her talking on the phone. The tone of her voice was serious, tinged with an urgency that made me stop in my tracks.

"I think it's best if we arrange the wedding right after they graduate," she said, her voice ringing with that unmistakable finality. There was no doubt in my mind that she wouldn't breathe a word of this to me until the last possible moment—just to catch me off guard and leave me with no choice.

Well, let's see about that. Because what she doesn't know is that I've will break off the engagement as soon as I finish this project. I cannot afford to failed in this because there wont be any good opportunity to ruin her plan completely, I won't need Ciel's family or anyone else's backing. I'll make a name for myself on my own terms, and when I do, I'll make sure they can't put any leash on me again.

But knowing ahead their plan isn't enough to calm my anger down, I'm still pretty pissed off. So I'm moving out tonight. I turned on my heel, and headed straight to my room.

It was time for dinner, and as usual, Dad didn't come home. It was just me and Mom, sitting across from each other in the large, empty dining room. The clinking of silverware against plates was the only sound that filled the space. I was planning to bolt out of the house and never come back, but my petty ass could never do that unless I knew I’d ruined someone’s night first. So, let’s get dinner and tell her straight up.

Before I could say anything, Mom spoke first. "You lost weight, son," she said, eyeing me for a moment. "Are you eating well?"

"I'm fine, Mom." I kept my tone as civil as possible.

"Well, you don’t look fine to me, Dominic!" she called, and our butler appeared instantly, like he was always waiting for orders.

"Tell the chef to add more protein to Carcel’s meals. He looks like he’s been losing weight." The butler nodded obediently, like some loyal dog. "And clean up the annex well make it into a gym and while your at it hire the best private trainer you could find."

"Mom!"

She ignored me. "Make it happen as soon as possible," she went on, still talking to the butler like I wasn’t even here, like she always do.

"I’ll take care of it right away, madam." The butler gave a slight bow and left.

"Now," she continued, "clear your schedule for tomorrow. It’s time for your monthly check-up. And we’ll get facials—you look awfully dry. Maybe you’re not sleeping well. Let’s see what the doctors say tom—"

"Enough already!"

She didn’t flinch. Not even a bit. Just stared at me, like she was waiting for me to obey. I felt suffocated again. Every instinct told me to lash out, flip the damn table, and let the frustration out—but I was too drained to waste my energy on this anymore.

"I'm moving out."

I pushed back my chair and stood. The sharp scrape of wood against marble echoed through the silence left between me and my mother. But before I could take a step, she grabbed my wrist.

"What do you mean, moving out?" Her grip was tight—too tight. I could feel her nails digging into my skin.

"Let go, Mom." I was trying—really trying—to keep my anger in check.

"No!" she screamed. "Who told you you could leave?"

She was getting more and more hysterical. I yanked my arm free, and a sharp sting followed where her nails had scratched me.

"No one, Mom!"

Her expression turned desperate, like she’d lock me up if I didn’t get out of here right now.

"You're the reason I want to leave. Every time you try to control me like this, it makes me sick. I can’t live like this anymore—I need a fucking break."

I turned and bolted for the door. Jordan was already waiting outside. The second I got in, he floored it, and we drove off.

By the time we were far enough away, exhaustion hit me so hard I didn’t even realize when I passed out.