When Bruno got to his room, he slammed the door so hard that the sound shook the whole building, and the walls seemed to rattle in response.
He could feel his chest tighten, and his breathing quickened. Annoyance, frustration, and anxiety boiled inside him. Every emotion he had managed to bottle up broke free.
He tore off his tie and threw it across the room. Pacing back and forth, he ran his fingers through his hair.
Then, he glanced at his phone, which he had placed on the bed. The scenes from the video stored on it flashed back into his memory. His hands clenched angrily then the scenes before Beauty left the party.
"Why?!" Bruno's voice cracked as he shouted, his fists slamming against the edge of his desk.
The impact caused a cut on his hand, which began to bleed. Papers scattered, and books tumbled to the floor, but he didn't care.
His breaths were heavy and labored, as if he were trying to exhale the emotions that had suffocated him for so long.
Without thinking, he grabbed the nearest object-an expensive glass vase, a gift from his grandmother-and hurled it against the wall.
"Oh no."
He gasped, realizing his temper had gone too far.
With a deep sigh, he slowly went to pick up the broken pieces, hating the thought that his grandmother would be disappointed when she visited and found the vase missing.
"I am such an idiot."
He cursed.
---
The crash of the vase and his shouting were so loud that they reached the living room downstairs, where his parents and sister sat.
Mr. Hathaway and his wife exchanged confused glances then they turned to their daughter. Who shrugged.
The men in black did the same, shifting uneasily.
"Is that Bruno?" Mr. Hathaway asked, though he didn't expect an answer.
"Since when has he become like this? He's acting like a child, throwing tantrums," Mr. Hathaway snorted.
His wife was annoyed by his reply. His only concern is about the company.
"For once, just once... honey... let him express his emotions. Yes, he's a child because he's never truly been allowed to be one-at least. He's still our son, not a machine."
Without waiting for a reply, she headed out of the living room to check on Bruno.
As soon as she was gone, Abigail shifted uncomfortably on the couch, her eyes darting toward her father, but she said nothing.
"Maybe Mom's right," Abigail muttered, finally breaking the silence.
Mr. Hathaway huffed and turned toward her with a raised brow.
"Excuse me?"
Abigail met his gaze boldly.
"Bruno's under a lot of pressure, Dad. He's been running the company, making deals, and keeping up appearances as a public figure for as long as I can remember. Maybe he just... needs a break."
Mr. Hathaway scoffed, shaking his head.
"A break? That boy has had every privilege handed to him on a silver platter. He doesn't need a break; he needs to grow up. Throwing tantrums won't solve his problems. And what do you mean, 'keeping up appearances'? Bruno was raised to take responsibility."
Abigail sighed.
"And you don't see what it's doing to him? Just because he doesn't talk about it doesn't mean it's not eating him alive. He's always expected to be perfect, but nobody's perfect. Not even Bruno. You put a lot of expectations and pressure on him-I feel bad for him."
Mr. Hathaway's jaw tightened.
"Perfect or not, he's old enough to know better. He should act like a man, not throw things like a child."
Abigail rolled her eyes.
"It sucks to be your heir."
She muttered and focused on the computer.
"What was that?" he barked.
---
When Bruno heard the knock on his door, he quickly straightened himself and tossed the broken pieces he had gathered into the trash can.
"Bruno, darling, may I come in?"
His mother's gentle voice came through.
Bruno ran a hand through his hair, smoothing it down, and quickly kicked some scattered papers aside before turning to open the door.
He put on a faint, tired smile as he opened it.
Mrs. Hathaway stepped inside, her eyes instinctively scanning the room. Surprisingly, everything seemed in order-no broken vases, no scattered books-just Bruno standing there, looking as calm and composed as ever.
"I just wanted to check on you," she said softly, her eyes searching his. "I heard some noise... I wanted to make sure you're okay."
Bruno nodded, his smile widening just enough to seem reassuring.
"I'm fine, Mom. Just a bit tired, that's all."
She wasn't convinced. Bruno was good at hiding his emotions.
"You know you can talk to me, right? If something's bothering you..."
"I know," he interrupted, forcing another smile. "Really, I'm okay. Just a long day. Nothing to worry about."
"If this is about what your father said-"
"No, it's not," he interrupted calmly.
"So there's something wrong?"
"No, I already told you, there's not," he replied dryly.
His mother sighed.
"You're Bruno Hathaway. You're successful, rich, and handsome. Women love you... if this is about a girlfriend, it's definitely her loss."
"It's not," he said, looking perfectly fine.
His frustrated mother studied him for a long moment, her brow furrowing slightly. There was something behind his eyes-something he wasn't letting her see. She knew her son well enough to sense when he was holding back too much.
Her eyes went down to his slightly shaking clenched fists and noticed the bleeding.
"Oh my goodness! Are you okay?"
She took a step forward.
He stepped back and put his hand into his pockets.
"Perfectly fine. I'm an adult".
He chuckled.
His green eyes stared directly into hers, as if she had asked an odd question.
She knew why, so she bit her lip and made another attempt.
"Listen, Bruno-"
"Ten-year-old Bruno might have needed your help... but you were never there. Maybe teenage Bruno too, okay? But I'm an adult now. I can handle my problems perfectly."
His mother blinked and looked away, guilt clouding her face. Her chest grew heavy with bitterness.
"Alright," she said softly, almost in a whisper.
She took a deep breath, still recovering from his remark. She knew he needed someone to talk to, but he would never choose her to be that person.
"You'll be fine?"
Bruno nodded again, his face expressionless, his voice steady.
"Yes, I can take care of it. Thank you."
He gave her a grin.
"Goodnight, darling," she said, closing the door behind her and casting one last glance his way.
The moment she was gone, Bruno's smile faded.