e·lite
/əˈlēt,āˈlēt/
noun
noun: elite; plural noun: elites
a group or class of people seen as having the greatest power and influence within a society, especially because of their wealth or privilege.
• in which the darkness-loathing heiress meets t...
"No working-class member has a trust fund that could cover the next ten generations of their family, Irene."
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"Irene, can I call you mummy?"
Charlie had said so confidently, his eyes twinkling. Both Irene and Thomas froze. The aristocrat's brown orbs went as wide as a throwing ball when she lifted her head to face the three-year-old boy sitting in front of her.
Her mind was racing, her brows scrunched up. Inconveniently, Charlie stretched his lips, forming an innocent-looking smile. By now, the Shelby family members turned their heads because of what Charlie said.
Irene turned her head toward the father of the child, slowly taking in his expression. His face went from emotionless to shocked to a look of absolute anger. Thomas stubbed his cigarette on the table before him.
His fists formed into a tight ball, he brought them down on the table hard. Making a loud bang sound, the brown-haired young duchess and Charles couldn't help but flinch.
Irene looked down at her hands that were intertwined on top of her lap. Thomas stood up, raking a hand over his hair.
Then he went to point his forefinger on the already trembling boy, "Don't ever say that again. You understand?"
Irene looked up just in time to see the boy nodding slowly, his lips trembling. Though she didn't understand why Charles would say something like that, she can't help but feel this aching sadness when she looked at the boy. His usual happy and merry manners are now replaced with fear towards his own father.
Thomas gripped the table, so hard his knuckles turned white, "Speak up, boy!"
Irene and Charles lifted their heads at the same time, alarmed by Thomas's ever-rising tone. Irene stared at the blue-eyed man in front of her in disbelief after Charles exclaimed a fearful answer to his father's question.
The boy's voice quivered as he answered with a simple, "Y-yes, father."
Irene had never felt this mad. It was never Thomas's place to scold a child's opinion, let alone his own. The child everybody claims to be the light in his dark times. She would understand why he's mad, but scolding the boy over a harmless proposition was never an option.
She glanced at the Shelbys who were sitting on the couch, silently begging for someone to step in and save the overly scared little boy. To Irene's shock, none of them moved even an inch. They only shared a knowing look, and Irene was somehow not surprised by them doing so.
Either Charles's own family members are scared of his father, or they were just reluctant to cross their ferocious kin also boss.
Irene also reluctant to speak up on the matter, as this boy was just a young and pure soul with no knowledge of how the world works. It wasn't her place either to stop a father from scolding his own child; she was not their kin after all. But when she looked down on Charles through her lashes and saw him dab the corner on his right eye, Irene was heartbroken for the boy she had very much connected to.
