Chapter 1: PROLOGUE
Shafts of sunlight piercing through the window blanketed the piano in a cozy, golden hue, making the elaborate inlaid patterns on the wood glisten. Hunter Rosewood was engrossed, his fingers effortlessly gliding over the keys, eyes shut as he surrendered to the flow of the tune. It was his refuge, his strategy for tuning out the inner chaos. There had been countless hours lately where he found sanctuary at that piano, channeling his inner tumult through each press of ivory.
The sudden rapping at his bedroom door shattered his musical trance, prompting Hunter's eyes to fly open. His mother's silhouette appeared in the threshold, wearing an expression that wrapped unease and resolve together like a knot. Their discussions about music always circled back to his father's absence and her tangled emotions over it—never easy terrain.
"Wow, that was hauntingly beautiful," she murmured, her focus drifting from him as she observed him at the instrument. "Beethoven again, huh?"
Hunter swiveled toward her, creasing his forehead with worry. "What's up? Did you need something?"
She paused before edging onto his bed. "Is it so strange for me to want to chat with my son without any agenda?" Frustration colored her tone just enough to be noticed.
He quirked a brow skeptically. "You're not one for casual conversation though."
Mrs. Rosewood exhaled deeply and massaged her forehead, as if to knead away an oncoming migraine. "I needed to discuss your plans for this coming weekend."
Hunter sensed trouble looming; pleasant topics weren't typically on her conversational menu.
"You're considering going to Ella Grier's birthday party?" She proceeded with caution.
Her face tightened in displeasure. "You can't. You need to stay here with me and your father Derick."
The Grier's were quite the unique bunch who had briefly set up domicile in their neighboring cottage a few years back, leaving a mark and four sisters who swiftly clicked with Hunter during their short stay at Rosedale Hall. Despite their quirky ways, Hunter felt an uncommon bond with them—Juliette particularly—but his mother never masked her disdain for them.
"I made a promise to Ella that I'd be there," he countered softly, trying hard not to kindle a fight.
Mrs. Rosewood scoffed, her tone dripping venomous disregard. "The Grier clan isn't short on birthdays; they're hardly extraordinary events."
Hunter felt a sharp pinch from her dismissive attitude but kept his composure intact. Her lack of understanding had always been a barrier between them.
"Ella specifically asked me to come," he countered quietly.
With an air of total indifference, his mother flicked her wrist. "Oh? Sounds like you might be better off kicking back at home, didn't Juliette kick you out of the last birthday party there?." She halted, a daunting chill in her voice that crept down Hunter's spine, "Besides, Derick's snagged us tickets to a fancy symphony in New York this weekend – all thanks to his boss's generosity."
The notion struck Hunter with the weight of a phantom punch; the world around him felt oppressively confining, invisible walls closing in. They only sought him out for their convenience or needs – no one seemed genuinely invested in his well-being.
"I'm not up for it," he stated, unmoved.
A sharp look from Mrs. Rosewood challenged him as if she dared him to rebel, not just against her but Derick as well.
"Mind your manners," she chided sharply, the words stinging like a physical blow.
Enraged, Hunter couldn't contain himself any longer. His words tumbled out recklessly. "He's shady; why should I show him any respect?" An eerie silence took hold of the room; the ongoing tick-tock of the grandfather clock suddenly sounding loud and clear. Mrs. Rosewood's complexion flushed a fierce shade of anger.
"Hold your tongue," she commanded, rising abruptly from her seat with pent-up energy.
Hunter refused to yield, heart pounding with defiance. "I'm just speaking facts." Recklessness seemed to fuel him now. The mere thought of Derick Staples set his skin crawling with discomfort.
Taking an imposing step forward, Mrs. Rosewood's eyes seethed with wrath. "You will not turn your back on me, Hunter Rosewood!"
But Hunter was already moving, striding towards the exit whilst feeling his mother's infuriated stare scalding his back.
Reaching the foyer, Derick materialized beside him, wearing a stern look. "What's this all about?"
Hunter tried to sidestep past him with a shrug but found himself restrained by Derick's clutch on his arm. "Don't play dumb; I know you're on about me," Derick spoke in a low tone.
With a quick jerk, Hunter freed himself and descended the stairs without a backwards glance - only for Derick's presence to loom behind him still as he continued to pursue.
Derick captured Hunter once more and whisked him around to confront him face-to-face. His gaze seethed with contained fury while he said through gritted teeth: "I heard every word you said."
Hunter's heart thumped against his ribcage, a visceral response to Derick's unwavering stare. "Why must he always escalate things like this?" he pondered internally, struggling to maintain composure. Unable to contain his frustration, Hunter snapped, "Seriously? Then what's the point of interrogating me?"
Derick's fingers clamped down on his arm, a vise of discomfort escalating to pain before abruptly letting go. They locked eyes in a silent standoff, tension crackling in the air like two predators sizing each other up.
"I'm giving you the shot to say whatever you've got to say, to my face," Derick declared after a weighted pause.
Chaos descended swiftly; Hunter felt Derick's overwhelming force propel him backward down the staircase. He tumbled and crashed onto the landing, gasping for air, adrenaline pumping as he clawed his way back up, narrowly dodging Derick's looming presence.
Back on the ground floor, dread and fear mingled inside Hunter but were vanquished by a surge of rebellious energy. "Back off!" he barked out defiantly. Adrenaline lent strength to his voice as he shouldered past Derick and dashed along the corridor. His pulse hammered in his ears; his breaths came in quick succession as he neared the entryway; his vehicle outside represented an escape to safety at his father's place in Boston.
Grappling with the front door handle, desperation set in – Derick was right behind him. With surprising force, Derick pinned him against the door, immobilizing Hunter's wrists above him. The young man thrashed wildly in an attempt to escape the steely grip.
"So I'm a monster now?" Derick whispered venomously, his breath scalding Hunter's neck. "You have no clue, kid. I've shown nothing but kindness. If that's your take on me—guess I'll have to adjust." Derick's punch sent a shockwave through Hunter that blurred his vision briefly.
Kicking and wriggling for freedom proved fruitless against Derick's iron hold. "Let go of me," Hunter demanded, fighting for composure through the fear.
"You want to be afraid of coming home? I can definitely arrange that," Derick threatened with fury flaring in his eyes.
"No! I didn't mean it – please! Just let me go!" Hunter's voice broke as he teetered on the edge of tears.
Briefly released from Derick's grip, Hunter inhaled sharply only to be thrust against the door once more. Fingers bit into his flesh as Derick snarled through gritted teeth: "Admit it – you meant every word."
Hunter's struggles ceased as Derick relinquished his grip, letting him thud onto the ground. But Hunter's fleeting hope of escape was crushed as Derick delivered a sharp kick, flipping him onto his back. Two vice-like knees slammed down, pinning him; the weight on his chest squeezing out every ounce of breath, leaving him gasping and wide-eyed with dread.
"You actually meant it," Derick declared, his tone icy with resolve.
Tears, mingled with sweat and pain from the earlier strike that had caught Hunter's cheekbone, streamed down his face. His left eye pulsed with agony as he tried to focus on Derick through the haze of his tears.
Once more, Derick's hand struck Hunter's already bruised face before he eased the pressure from one knee, giving Hunter just a sliver of air.
"Please...I can't take it," Hunter breathed out in a shaky whisper, panic overtaking him.
The ominous glow in Derick's eyes sent a terror skittering down Hunter's spine; this man before him was no longer the benign figure he once appeared to be.
"Just stop...I'll do anything... I'll stay at my dad's over summer break... I won't breathe a word of this... I swear..." Hunter's promise was strained and desperate through clenched teeth even though inside he was screaming: Escape now if you want to live!
Before he could muster another effort to evade or plead further, Mrs. Rosewood emerged in a stormy flurry from the staircase above. Each click of her high heels on the hardwood echoed like ominous drumbeats heralding her rage-filled arrival.
"Hunter!" Her cry sliced through the tension, pitched high with worry.
Caught off guard, Derick half-turned just enough for Mrs. Rosewood to seize him by the shoulder and yank him back from her son.
A wild blend of fury and fear flickered across Derick's eyes as he stumbled over words of defense. "Barbara, I swear it wasn't—"
She silenced him abruptly with an incisive glare before turning her frantic gaze on to her son's battered features. "Hunter!" she screeched again as her eyes frantically searched his face for the extent of his injuries. "Did he hurt you?"
Hunter grimaced as he shook his head slowly, pain radiating from where Derick tightened his hold like a vise on his wrists. The feeling of utter powerlessness enveloped him; he was nothing more than prey ensnared by an arachnid's snare.
Barbara whirled back to face Derick squarely, her posture taut with contempt and fury. She didn't bother masking her scornful tone as she confronted him. "Did you put your hands on my boy?" she growled out, every word dripping with threat and protectiveness.
Hunter's eyes remained locked onto Derick's self-satisfied smirk. A chill of realization swept over him as he recognized the true nature of the beast, which had skulked behind a façade of friendliness for far too long.
Derick let go of Hunter's wrists, stepping back as he fiddled with his tie with feigned indifference. "My bad," I'm sorry! he said, a tone thick with faux apology.
Barbara let out a derisive snort. "You're sorry? Please." Her laugh was sharp and filled with scorn. "Just so you know, if he's got even a scratch on him, I'm calling the cops."
Derick's scoff was laden with contempt as he faced Hunter briefly, then spun to meet Barbara's glare. "He was practically begging for it," he sneered, lobbing those spiteful words like sharpened blades aimed straight at Hunter's resolve.
Barbara's complexion flared a deep crimson, her rage palpable as she snapped toward him. "That's my son!" Her fury was palpable in the intensity of her stare.
As Hunter fought back tears that threatened to spill over, he gazed at Barbara, the world around him growing misty.
"Did he ever take a swing at you?" Barbara inquired with tender concern coloring her voice.
With a moment's hesitation, Hunter confessed, a slight tremble in his voice, "Not till today."
A suffocating silence fell over them, heavy with emotion left to hang in the air unspoken. Barbara wheeled on Derick again; her gaze ignited anew with anger: "What about him falling down those stairs? I heard it and thought it was an accident…"
With an air of nonchalance that made Hunter's skin crawl, Derick replied: "Guess he's clumsy."
The smug look plastered across Derick's face suggested his belief in his own deceit. But Hunter knew the truth always had a way of surfacing eventually.
"Why d'you think you can spin these stories?" Hunter challenged quietly but resolute, facing Derick head-on for once in what felt like forever.
Derick offered an unnerving smirk: "Easy there, Hunter."
Stepping between them yet again, Barbara moved to shield her son away from Derick: "You tryna threaten my kid?"
"Wouldn't dream of it," Derick countered smoothly; too smoothly, really – it nearly convinced Barbara before she snapped out of his manipulative trance.
In the charged silence encasing their deadlock—a battle waged between lies and reality—it was evident that their world had irreparably shifted.
The air crackled with tension; stale and heavy with bitterness that had been fermenting unsaid for years between Mrs. Rosewood and Derick.
Derick attempted an apology laced with insincerity: "I went a bit overboard with the booze tonight—won't be an issue again."
"Agreed. There won't be a repeat performance," she said, her voice now an icy blade of detachment.
As Derick recoiled, reaching instinctively for the escape offered by the door handle, he scoffed with disbelief, "For real? It was a one-off slip-up. I apologized, didn't I—"
"OUT!" The command from Mrs. Rosewood lashed out, slicing through the tension and sending icy shudders down Hunter's back.
Scorn twisted Derick's features as he spun on his heel. "Fine. I'll grab my things," he threw over his shoulder arrogantly.
Her rebuttal was swift and non-negotiable: "Leave them! My lawyer will be in touch first thing."
Brushing past her with scorn-lit eyes and a challenging pause beside Hunter, Derick leaned in menacingly, his bitter whisper like venom: "Just so you know—I'm coming for you."
A chill feathered down Hunter's back even as Mrs. Rosewood's grip drew him from Derick's toxic aura.
"Don't engage," she cautioned him with steely eyes.
But defiance ran hot in Derick's veins; he wanted to stir the pot again. "Hope that lesson stuck," he jeered before swiveling back to Mrs. Rosewood.
The audible smack of her hand against his cheek resounded through the hallway — a thunderclap heralding summer storms. As another slap painted Derick's face red once more, Mrs. Rosewood moderated her composure with visible effort.
"Leave this house now or I'm calling the cops," she stated with unyielding resolution.
He snatched his keychain from the console table and flung it contemptuously aside before straightening his jacket imperiously again.
"You've worn out your welcome," she asserted frostily, pivoting then to face Hunter.
In contrast to his flustered departure — without emitting another syllable — Mrs. Rosewood swiftly slid home the deadbolt and turned back to Hunter, tears brimming.
"He's out of our lives for good," she murmured tenderly against Hunter's ear before drawing him into her arms for solace.
Hunter stood overwhelmed amidst their embrace — words escaping him in an almost soundless murmur: "Told you...dude was bad news."
Bound together in comfort against the storm they'd weathered, the night's events were etched into their minds — indelible memories that reshaped their reality indefinitely.
Weekly Power Status
-- Power
Ranking 
-- Power
stone