The Poor Life of the Influential

In the office, Fei was surprised to see that there were other people inside besides the old master.

Eyrie and Carol stood awkwardly against one of the walls at the side of their father's desk. When the two saw their brother's bodyguard follow him in, they were visibly surprised.

It seemed that the servants were cleared out beforehand, as there was no person other than Fei that was not of the Rochester family inside the office.

Fei knew the reason for the two's shock.

Before that day, she had never followed her master into the office, seeing that Mr. Rochester did not explicitly call for her presence. Other than that, it was also because none of the servants ever went into the room, even lady's maids that personally served the two ladies of the mansion.

But on that day, it was different.

Seeing her master's fear and nervousness, Fei felt uncomfortable letting him go in by himself. She wanted to see what exactly was it that caused such turbulence in his emotions.

What if something dangerous lurked in the old master's room? What if Master got injured? She would definitely not allow this to happen.

With this mindset, Fei had followed Carlos into the office, despite knowing that it was improper to go in when uncalled for.

Bowing first to the old master who had his head lowered and thus did not see her, Fei walked with silent steps to the wall where Eyrie and Carol was and stood beside Eyrie.

But Eyrie wasn't like her usual self; she barely noticed her friend as her attention was taken away by the little crevices on the marble floor.

Carol had similarly ignored Fei, her eyes meek as she inspected the little gadgets on her father's desk. At this moment, the second miss no longer had even a hint of arrogance in her demeanor.

Finally, Mr. Rochester, who sat in his seat, absorbed in some paperwork in front of him, looked up to size up his trembling son.

The first thing that Fei noticed was that his eyes were pure ice.

Colder than she had ever seen before.

Although the old master had his fair share of bad moods, none of his expressions before had come even close to the one he was wearing right now.

What happened?

At once, Fei was thrown into a panic. Did something bad happen? Something that concerned her master?

Suddenly, as if Mr. Rochester sensed a gaze on him, he directed his taciturn green eyes at Fei.

Registering in the mutant's face, he raised his eyebrows but ultimately did not say a thing. He turned his attention back to his son.

He stared Carlos, watching as the boy squirmed uncomfortably under his gaze.

"Carlos… Do you have anything you wish to tell me?" the man asked in a deep voice. His tone had a hint of expectancy and pleading to it.

Hearing the question, Carlos jerked his head violently and opened his mouth to speak.

But no words came out; they were stuck in his throat that was crammed by an invisible pressure.

A few moments of silence ensued.

Seeing how Carlos had no intention of answering, Mr. Rochester's gaze turned a shade darker, and the room seemed to freeze at that moment.

"Very well." He stood up with a stack of papers in his hand.

Before anyone could process what was going on, Mr. Rochester suddenly threw them at Carlos.

The boy jolted as he tried to shield himself from the onslaught of paper with his hands. His eyes turned rounder and wider with each second that passed.

He was horrified.

As if a dam somewhere in the old master had burst, the man's calm coldness had disappeared, replaced with a terrifying storm of rage.

"LOOK AT WHAT YOU HAVE DONE! DO YOU HAVE ANY CONSCIENCE?!" Mr. Rochester's face was red with fury.

Ahh…

By this time, the young master had fallen lifelessly to the ground.

He had glimpsed some of the content on those papers that his father threw at him.

He was dead. Definitely.

But would he be grilled or be shredded? The boy lampooned as he braced himself for his father's words.

"I WAS WONDERING WHAT MIRACLE HAPPENED TO ALLOW YOU TO ACHIEVE FULL SCORES ON THE EXAM. TO THINK YOU'D ACTUALLY CHEAT ON THE MIDYEAR! DID YOU THINK NO ONE WOULD FIND OUT?"

"YOU ARE A ROCHESTER. A HEIR TO A PRESTEGIOUS FAMILY. THERE'S A PRIDE YOU HAVE TO HOLD UP. YOU ARE DIFFERENT FROM THE OTHER CHILDREN OUT THERE. TO HELL, EVEN NORMAL CHILDREN WOULD BE BETTER THAN YOU!" His voice cracked as his voice rose louder and louder.

Carlos didn't respond, silently enduring.

Looking at the boy that was ignoring his words, the veins on Mr. Rochester's forehead throbbed. He stopped talking and began rummaging through one of his drawers.

Finally, he found what he was looking for, a massive folder. The old master threw it at his son, and the contents spilled out and scattered onto the floor.

Looking at what the contents were, Carlos finally showed a reaction.

They were the visual art pieces that he made during the last five years. Ever since he drew his awful picture of Fei that year, he had been fervently trying to improve his skills in secret.

But as time went on, he realized that he genuinely enjoyed doing art.

It was one of the few things he escaped to after unpleasant encounters with his family and academics.

The boy scrambled on to the floor, trying to collect as many of the contents as he could, his hands trembling.

Seeing his behavior, Mr. Rochester fell silent.

"It seems as if I have gotten too lenient with you. To focus on such subsidiary matters over your academics. You—"

"Why did you do this?" Carlos' voice was fractured as he continued to organize everything with calloused hands.

He was so tired of this.

"Why did you take my things? These are MY hobbies, what does that have to do with you?"

When the boy looked up, his eyes were red. "Who are you to do this? Why can't I do what I want? I DIDN'T EVEN WANT TO BE BORN INTO THIS FAMILY!"

Before he could say anything else, Mr. Rochester rushed forward and lashed out his palm in a fury.

This son of his had crossed his bottom line.

But before the palm could land onto Carlos' face, the man's wrist was grabbed tightly by a third party.

"Mr. Rochester, please refrain from physically harming my master."