Family Conflict

    The sky was already fading when Elliot pulled up into the estate. The long day was over. The large iron gates slid open, revealing the Lombardi mansion, modern sleek glass, sharp angles. It carries the heavy air of old money, power and influence.

He parked by the front steps and stepped out, slinging his hockey bag over his shoulder. Next second, Vause, the house butler rushed out to meet him.

"Welcome home, young master" Vause said, bowing his head as a sign of respect.

Elliot didn't bother responding. He tossed Vause the key to his sleek, black Lamborghini veneno roadster without even looking at him.

Vause caught them with practiced ease.

"Your father requests your presence in his study" he said quietly.

His jaw clenched and he gave Vause a short nod before heading inside.

His heart hammered as he approached his father's study.

Gently, he knocked on the wooden door.

"Come in" his father's thick voice came through the wooden door.

Elliot turned the knob and pushed the door open.

The study was dark, only a single lamp in the corner of the room was lit. It smelled of old wood, leather and a faint bitter scent of smoke heavy black curtains covered the windows, blocking the moonlight from spilling through the floor-to-ceiling window.

His father sat behind the large desk, back straight, facing away from Elliot. He puffed out smoke from the pipe in his mouth. The room was too quiet.

Elliot stepped inside fully, shutting the door behind him.

For a moment, none of them spoke.

Elliot stood by the door, waiting, because with his father, speaking first would be a mistake.

Finally, the chair turned slightly, just enough for his father to acknowledge him with a cold glance.

His father removed the pipe from his mouth and dropped it on the ashtray.

"You never cease to disappoint me...more and today's game proved me right" He intoned.

Elliot didn't move. He wouldn't dare it. He stood frozen near the door, fist tightened by his sides.

 

"I...i..i..I'll do...better next time" he mumbled, barely loud enough to hear. His father chuckled bitterly 

 

"You. Do better? Tell me when you've ever done better" he mocked.

 

"I watched you play and lose that game. How much longer do you plan on embarrassing yourself? Is this really the best you can do?" His father continued.

 

Elliot's jaw clenched.

"Take a look at your brother..." his father was continued but Elliot cut him off angrily, despite the fear in his chest.

 

"Step-brother" he corrected.

 

It was a dumb risk but he took it anyways, he hated when people referred his father's wife's son as his brother. They are not even related. Not by blood. Not by anything.

His father's head snapped, his eyes filled with rage.

"What did you just say to me?" He barked, slamming his hand on the desk.

"You don't get to decide who family is, I do"

Elliot shut his mouth immediately. He knows better.

"You will not interrupt me again" His father warned and Elliot nodded.

"You're supposed to help run the companies but instead you chose a sport as if it were a career but every game proves me right that you're nothing but a disheartening mistake." His father spat and Elliot raised his head to look at his father.

Before Elliot could even blink, the study door opened without a knock.

His stepmother, Fiona walked in, her heels clicking against the tiled floor. Her son, Adrian trailed behind her, hands in his pockets, expression blank.

"You're raising your voice for nothing, Lorenzo. He's made his choice. Let him live with the consequences and stop punishing your blood pressure." She said smoothly as she approached where Elliot's father sat, not acknowledging Elliot's presence

Elliot scoffed, biting down on his lower lips. He always does that whenever he is seconds from snapping. The words slipped out anyway

Fiona turned, her eyes flicked coolly towards Elliot, unimpressed and composed, like she was staring at a stain someone forgot to clean off the floor.

"You're old enough to understand what consequences are and even old enough to face them" She said lightly, smoothing her hands down her blouse as if the conversation had stained her.

"You don't get to lecture me about what is right or wrong. You're not my mother, stop acting like you are." Elliot growled.

 

"Elliot!" His father growled, standing abruptly. The chair scraping against the tiled floor.

"I am not your mother but I raised you like my own and I've....I've been good to you, why do you hate me so much?" Fiona replied quietly, her voice trembling.

 She lowered her head, one hand pressed to her temple as if the weight of Elliot's word had physically affected her.

Lorenzo threw his arm on her shoulder, consoling her. Elliot's jaw clenched. He had seen these manipulative cries she always pulled a hundred times, just for Lorenzo to see and blame Elliot.

"You see what you've caused?" His father intoned

"I will not tolerate disrespect in my house, especially towards her. Fiona had shown you kindness more than you deserve. If you choose not to be a part of this family, that is on you but you will not disrespect our family" His father continued.

"You call this family? You call me a disappointment. What's more disappointing? You married your late wife's best friend the moment she was pronounced dead." Elliot fired back. He's had enough of this clown show.

The whole room went cold.

Adrian, who had been standing at the back this while smirked , arms folded, like he was enjoying the show. 

Lorenzo's jaw clenched, he pointed his finger at Elliot.

"Your mother is gone. Dead and never coming back. Life moves on, Elliot." He stated.

Elliot blinked back the tears that were starting to linger in his eyes.

"You should be ashamed of yourself, Dad." He said,  quietly but loud enough for everyone in the room to hear.

Lorenzo shook his head in despair.

"I've had enough of your ungratefulness, Elliot. You're hopeless. Everything you've ever done has caused nothing but pain to me, even this pathetic career you insist on chasing. Tell me, how many Hart Trophy awards have you actually won? How much have you really accomplished? Nothing!" His father barked.

Elliot stayed quiet and lowered his head in shame. The Hart Trophy was the league's highest award, given to the best of the best hockey player. He didn't have one. Everyone in the league dreamed of winning the Hart.

“Just like your step-mother had said, you will face the consequences. Win the Hart Trophy and maybe....maybe I'll consider you worthy after all." he continued.

"Fail and everything...every company and every asset in my name goes to Adrian."