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Lovel mumbled, "Mother—"
"—has weaponized her tears once and is aware that ploy won't work again," Acwulf said.
Lovel exchanged a scared glance with Lovelle.
He pitied them and even entertained this low blow to curry his favors. But he didn't help those too lazy to help themselves.
"Aron's gambling arrears—"
"—will get racked up even after I bail him out again. Why don't you all try living within your means?"
Lovel flushed; the ugly shade of pink accentuating his pallor.
The Aristocrats harbored an innate sense of entitlement. They had no qualms about appropriating their heart's desires from their 'lessers'. His family sure didn't. After all, Acwulf's sole purpose, as a spare, was to be a loyal servant of the heir.
He put his foot down, so Lovel sulked. He, too, hankered for a chunk of Acwulf's empire. They'd reduced him to a relative with deep pockets.
Unbidden, he recalled his heated conversation on his sixteenth birthing's eve—the best and worst day of his life.
"We won't allow this!" Lord Ducal the Ninth had torn the acceptance letter from the Azrael College of Business Management. For a Luxembourgian to attend the modern shifter university was disgraceful. Worse, studying how to earn their keep was blasphemous.
"What would you have me do, father?" his younger self had begged, almost in tears.
"Exactly what's expected of you—nothing. You're the second born. How dare you embarrass us and question my judgment? Step aside, bite your errant tongue, and enjoy the fruits of trees planted by your elders and betters."
Instead, he'd been instructed to join the Gittenburge Institute, a relic where royals graduated but learned nothing.
At that moment, an epiphany struck Acwulf—everything he believed was a lie. The arcane ways of his ancestors and rules of honorable conduct reeked of hypocrisy. They would've decided his fate if he'd allowed it. But he couldn't sit on the sidelines, existing to step up only if anything untoward happened to Aron, the firstborn.
That night, he'd walked out of his decrepit palace. If he hadn't, he wouldn't have met Saya and Mikhael.
But seven years later, his mother's pleas sucked him back.
Even then, his sire and frater maior sneered at his ideas to improve their standing. He curbed their overspending. After many fights, he ended his family's mismanagement of their vast acreages. His shrewd investments recompensed their creditors, but his actions were interpreted as disrespect. The final straw was Aron stealing Acwulf's former fiancée.
Instead of overlooking multifold betrayals and affronts, he severed ties with them all. His father's grudging approval demanded a price he wasn't willing to pay.
