Love And Carnage

Chapter 2 @The Player

I glanced at my reflection in the mirror, the sharp lines of my jaw and the confident tilt of my smile contrasting sharply with the turmoil churning inside me. Behind the charm I radiated lay a longing I couldn't shake-a part of me that felt lost, even with all my wealth.

The void kept growing bigger each year. Even with this blue suit hugging my toned body, accentuating my biceps and shoulders-features that always caught the ladies' attention-my body still feels cold, even with a company by my arm.

Their laughter and flirtatious glances couldn't penetrate the chill that had settled in my bones. It was as if a barrier surrounded me, keeping the warmth of their affection at bay. I felt like a mere spectator, caught in a vibrant world that thrived around me while I remained untouched, yearning for something-or someone-more genuine.

Just then, my phone buzzed. I glanced at the screen, a heavy sigh escaping me as my father's name flashed across it.

I hesitated, my thumb hovering over the decline button, but a sense of obligation took over. Reluctantly, I answered.

"Hey, Dad," I said, forcing a casual tone as if I wasn't already dreading this conversation.

"Charlie, don't be late to the ball. It's important for the company image," he said, his voice clipped and authoritative.

"Wouldn't want to ruin our perfect family facade, right?" I shot back, rolling my eyes even though he couldn't see me.

"Just be there, son. We need all the support we can get," he replied as if that made everything better.

"Yeah, because nothing screams 'success' like a masquerade ball where we pretend everything's fine," I muttered before hanging up, the sarcasm hanging in the air like a heavy cloud.

I had zero interest in attending this stuffy, pointless masquerade ball, but my father was counting on my presence to reel in the support he so desperately needed-support that boiled down to one thing: money.

I've always been my father's prized puppet, the face he paraded to secure his power-because I was his oldest son, trained to mirror him in every way that mattered.

Of all his lessons, the playboy attitude stuck with me the most. He was a brilliant businessman but a lousy father. I grabbed my phone and keys, a smirk creeping across my lips.

At least there'll be some beautiful women at the party-perfect for a bit of fun on the ride home, maybe even more than one if I'm lucky.

Beige and light grey stones came into view as I drove up to the castle, shadows cast by the lights weaving a facade of mystery-something more than mere bricks and mortar. There hadn't been a fire in this house for ages-no warmth, no passion, just an empty relic of its former glory.

Once a majestic palace, it had been reduced to a soulless venue for the rich and powerful, a playground where they mingled with others of their kind. Guests paraded in elegant attire, laughter and chatter filling the air, desperately convincing themselves of the night's excitement and glamour.

But beneath that polished surface lay a bitter truth-a facade I was forced to inhabit.

I slowed my car to a halt, the engine purring heavily, echoing the dread pooling in my chest at the thought of stepping into this life my father had built for me.

With a heavy sigh, I reached for the simple black mask in the console. It concealed just enough of my identity, though it was unnecessary; everyone already knew who I was.

My title granted me a certain indifference, a weight of expectation that accompanied every entry I made into high society.

As I stepped into the ballroom, the click of my shoes echoed against the marble floor, each sound slicing through the air like a knife. Crystal chandeliers hung like overblown ornaments, their light reflecting off the lavish decor, illuminating walls draped in gold and rich fabrics.