4. I Hate Christmas

Clinton’s POV

People say Christmas is joy. Family. Love. Peace. They’ve clearly never sat at our dining table. I have. I call it pretending.

Pretending we love each other, like everything is fine…when I’m not even sure I belong.

Right now, I’m sitting at the long dining table in our mansion, chest tight, stomach twisting, staring at a plate of food I don’t want and can’t taste.

My mother’s smile is plastic, my father’s face is sour, and my golden-boy brother wears that smug little smirk like he owns the world.

Everyone’s playing their parts. And me? I hate it. I’d rather be outside in the snow, at the rink running drills with Jack and Cody, or anywhere…anywhere…than here. Hell, I’d even rather be talking to Catherine. At least she’s real. Or just hanging with Richard, my best friend.

And then I remember last night. The girl who reminded me what real feels like. Catherine. Thinking of her makes my stomach twist in ways I don’t like. I shove the thought aside.

My father suddenly looks at me and smiles.

My stomach drops.

That man has never, not once, smiled at me in my life.

And now he’s smiling?

My mother keeps passing dishes. “Do you want more gravy? More chicken? Eat, dear. You look tired.”

Since when did she care if I ate or starved?

My brother sits across from me, smug as always, like the world is a stage and he is the star.

Mr. Lee, my father’s guest and business partner, watches us like we’re one big happy family. He praises the food, compliments my parents, and I sit there, silent, wishing the floor would swallow me whole.

Then he asks the question no one dares:

“So, have you decided who will take over when you retire?”

My father’s smile stiffens. Fake. Forced.

“I have not decided yet,” he says.

I bark a laugh before I can stop it. Yeah, right. He decided years ago. Everyone knows who the golden boy is.

I drop my spoon into my plate and stand.

My mother’s eyes widen. “Where are you going?”

“To my room,” I say slowly. “Where I don’t have to pretend with all of you.”

The silence hits like a slap.

I walk away before anyone can speak again.

I climb the stairs two at a time, reach my room, slam the door, and collapse onto my bed. I land on my back, staring at the ceiling.

I should’ve been out tonight, partying with Richard. But no. I stayed. Threatened by my father. Forced to sit through their performance.

I squeeze my eyes shut. My chest hurts so much it’s hard to breathe.

Then the door bursts open.

My mother storms in. Heels clicking, face furious. Angry enough to burn the whole house down.

“Do you not know how to knock?” I say, rising up.

Her jaw tightens. “How dare you embarrass your father in front of his guest?!”

Embarrass him? I stare at her. Confused. Angry. “Did I say something untrue? I was tired of the movie all of you were acting downstairs. So I came to my room. I don’t even get the freedom to do that?”

“You will go back,” she snaps. “And apologize to your father immediately.”

I laugh bitterly. “Why? You don’t care about me. He doesn’t either. So why should I keep trying to please him?”

Before she can answer, my father storms in.

Eyes like fire. Face red. Breathing sharp and loud.

He marches straight toward me.

I step back…but not fast enough.

Slap…right across my face. Then another. And another. And another.

Warm blood slides down my cheek.

My mother rushes forward. Grabs his arm. “Stop! What if the guest hears us?”

I wipe the blood from my mouth. Laugh painfully. “Why stop him? This isn’t the first time he hit me.”

“Shut up,” my mother snaps.

“No!” My voice cracks. “I won’t shut up. He did the same thing yesterday. And you cheered him on.”

The tears break free. Hot. Uncontrollable.

“Who hits their child on Christmas day?” I scream.

My mother’s face hardens. “You should be grateful he hasn’t snapped your neck for talking back to him.”

My heart cracks. Slowly. Painfully.

“My only regret,” I whisper, voice breaking, “is being born into this family.”

I push past both of them. Walk toward the door.

“If you walk out,” my father growls behind me, “I won’t give you a dime when I die.”

I turn around slowly.

His face is red. His veins stick out. He looks like a monster.

“I know,” I say quietly. “You were never planning to give me anything. Just give it all to your favorite son. Your heir.”

And I walk out.

---

Snow falls slowly, heavy and quiet. Soft white flakes drift down like tiny pieces of cold heaven. They land on my hair, eyelashes, bruised cheek. Melt instantly, turning into cold water that slides down my skin.

I walk toward my car. Each step leaves a print behind me.

My phone rings. Richard.

I wipe my face with my sleeves. Answer.

“Where are you?” he asks over loud music.

“At home.”

“Well hurry up! The club is full tonight. Beautiful girls everywhere. If you don’t want us to have all the fun, get your ass here now.”

I open my mouth to tell him I’m not in the mood.

Then I pause.

Maybe I need this.

Girls. Alcohol. Distraction. Anything to numb the pain.

“I’ll be there soon,” I tell him.

I hang up. Get in the car. Start the engine. Drive off into the snowy night.

---

Music hits before I even step into the VIP section.

Richard grins, one arm slung casually around the girl beside him. “There he is…Clinton Blunt!”

Two familiar figures lean against the bar, drinks in hand…Zack and Cody, defensemen from the Woodblock City High hockey team, both already wrapped around girls who definitely aren’t their girlfriends.

And then I notice them.

Three girls nearby. All watching me.

One bold, flashing a take-me-home smile.

The other two quieter, curious…but just as interested.

Richard nudges me. “So? Do you like any of them? Or do you want all three?”

“I’m not an animal.”

“Bro, that’s exactly what we are.”

I stand. Point at the bold girl. “You. Let’s go.”

She jumps up and slides her arm around mine.

Richard smirks. “Have fun, man.”

I nod. Lead her out.

Maybe sex will help me forget.

Maybe erase the image of my father’s hand.

Maybe.

---

The moment we enter the hotel room, she starts undressing, pulling off her dress and tossing it aside.

Naked, biting her lip, trying to look sexy. Her manicure is chipped. A tiny detail I notice.

I smirk. “Well… bold. I like that.”

I step closer. Ready to lose myself in the distraction.

Then…

My phone rings.

I groan, pull the phone from my pocket, and my brain stops.

Catherine.

I swipe to answer. She speaks first.

“Hey, you jerk.”

I blink. “Excuse me?”

“Yes. Hey, you jerk!”

I raise a brow. “You talking to me?”

She interrupts again. “You call yourself human? Well, I’m different, you hear me. I’m not like those girls who flock around you.”

Ah. She’s drunk.

I can tell immediately.

Her words are soft. Slow. Angry.

She drags her vowels, and there are tiny hiccups between her sentences.

She continues, “I won’t kiss a guy who isn’t my boyfriend!”

I raise a brow.

“Are you trying to tell me to ask you?”

“No! That’s not what I’m saying!”

I laugh silently.

I can almost see her red cheeks.

This girl is adorable. Annoying, yes… but adorable.

“I…I won’t give it to you even if you asked me!” she stammers.

“Ughhhh! Whatever! I’m cutting the call!”

Before I can speak, she hangs up.

I stare at my phone.

She got drunk because of me. Well… because of that idiot Danny. But mostly because of me.

The naked girl behind me calls, “Come to bed when you’re done.”

I turn. Legs crossed, posture desperate.

Nothing like Catherine.

A laugh escapes me. I remember Catherine running out last night, her hair flying like it’s on fire.

“I’m not in the mood,” I tell the girl. “Maybe next time.”

I doubt there will ever be a next time.

I turn away from her.

Then… something feels wrong. The air conditioner is too quiet. A shadow moves near the minibar. Maybe it’s my imagination. My stomach tightens. I feel like someone is watching me.

Knock. Knock.

“Who is it?”

“Room service.”

“I didn’t order room service,” I reply.

“It’s a special treat for our VVIP guest.”

My jaw clenches as I open the door.

A man stands there with cold eyes and a blank face, a gun resting in his hand.

Before I can move…

BAM.

The sound explodes in my ears.

Pain tears through my chest as the bullet enters my body.

I gasp.

My knees buckle.

Warm blood spreads down my shirt.

The girl screams behind me.

The man smiles at me and turns to leave as I collapse to the floor.

My vision blurs. My heart slows.

Everything goes dark.