Chapter 45 Useless son!
At the Graham's Estate: Tristan's Wing.
"And where the hell are you going, shouldn't we discuss on how to take back the position," Viola yelled at Tristan and stomped her feet on the floor out of frustration.
Tristan's hand froze on the banister of the grand staircase. His jaw clenched so tight it probably hurt. He had been ignoring his mother's shrill voice for the past fifteen minutes, tuning out her complaints about Alexander, about Grandma Winifred, about the board members who'd sat in stunned silence as his brother exposed her embezzlement.
More like their embezzlement. Because it hadn't been his idea but he never said anything about it.
He ignored his mother and took another step up the stairs, his knuckles white against the polished wood.
"Tristan Graham, don't you dare walk away from me!, why are you this useless!"
And that did it, that word. That single word she'd thrown at him like a weapon since he was a child.
Useless.
Something inside him snapped.
Tristan turned slowly, his eyes meeting his mother's furious gaze. She stood at the bottom of the stairs in her designer dress and perfectly styled hair, looking every bit the entitled socialite who believed the world owed her everything.
"Enough, Mother!" His voice erupted echoing off the high ceilings. "You know this is all your fault but of course you won't take any blame. I warned you about those funds, didn't I? Now you personally ruined my chances and here you are putting the blame on me. Why do you have to be a frickin pain on my neck!"
Viola's mouth fell open. For a moment, she simply stared at him, clearly dumbfounded that her obedient son had finally raised his voice.
But Viola Fanning had never been one to back down from a fight, especially not with her own child.
Her shock morphed into anger.
"Don't you dare yell at me, Tristan. I am your mother." She pointed a manicured finger at him, her voice rising to match his volume. "Yes, I used some funds and so what? So what if I took some little funds? If you were the CEO, wouldn't I be allowed to use my own child's money? Why should I have to explain before taking some measly funds? You'd better find a way to take back that position instead of standing there whining like a child!"
Tristan descended two steps, his face flushed with anger he had suppressed for years.
"You call six hundred million dollars little funds, Mother? How wasteful can you be, to call that amount casually without blinking? And you even spent it on nothing useful!" His voice cracked with frustration. "I am sick and tired of your nagging and you know what? If you so much want the position of CEO, why not contest for it instead!"
He didn't wait for her response. He couldn't stand to be in the same room with her for another second. Tristan turned and took the stairs two at a time, his heart hammering against his ribcage.
"Tristan! Tristan, come back here this instant!"
But he didn't look back. He strode down the corridor to his private wing, entered his bedroom, and slammed the door with enough force to rattle the picture frames on the wall.
Tristan leaned against the door, breathing hard. His hands were shaking. When was the last time he'd yelled at her like that? When was the last time he'd stood up for himself?
Never. The answer was never.
He'd always been the dutiful son. The one who followed orders. The one who did everything she asked, convinced himself it was for the family, for his future, for some version of success that would finally make her proud.
But she was never proud. She only compared him to Alexander.
Alexander, who'd built his own empire without the Graham name. Alexander, who commanded respect with a single glance. Alexander, who their grandmother actually trusted to run the company.
And why wouldn't she? Alexander hadn't let his mother steal six hundred million dollars from the family business.
Tristan pushed off the door and walked to his window, looking out over the Graham estate gardens. Alexander was probably unbothered by today's board meeting drama.
Meanwhile, Tristan was trapped. Trapped by his mother's ambitions. Trapped by his own inability to say no. Trapped in a role he'd never wanted but had been forced into since childhood.
........................
Meanwhile, back in the sitting room downstairs, Viola paced back and forth like a caged animal. Her heels clicked sharply against the marble floor with each angry step.
How dare he. How dare her own son yell at her like that, embarrass her, make her feel small in her own home.
She stopped pacing and stared at her reflection in the ornate mirror above the fireplace. Her carefully applied makeup couldn't hide the fury in her eyes.
"Useless," she muttered to herself. "He's absolutely useless. Why can't he be more like Alexander?"
The irony of the statement wasn't lost on her, but she was too angry to care.
If only Tristan had Alexander's drive, his ruthlessness, his natural ability to command a room. If only her son had built his own company instead of relying on the Graham name, she wouldn't be in this position.
She wouldn't have to scramble for funds. She wouldn't have been humiliated in front of the entire board, and in front of Grandma Winifred.
"That old hag needs to be dealt with sooner. And my stepson, he's becoming a bigger problem than I anticipated. If Winifred lives much longer, she'll hand him everything. The company, the estates, and other properties, all of it. I won't let that happen."
She paused for a while and her lips suddenly curved into a cold smile. "I'm going to get rid of the old hag first. Make it look natural, an accident, I don't care. And then I'll deal with Alexander myself. Without Grandmother protecting him, without his perfect reputation, he'll definitely fall. And when he does, everything will belong to Tristan. To us."
She had been patient for years, playing the dutiful daughter in-law, the supportive mother, the loyal board member. But her patience had run out.
If they wanted war, she would give them war.
And this time, she wouldn't stop until the Graham empire belonged to her son.
Even if she had to destroy everyone in her path to make it happen.