Page 41 of The Brat: Prequel

“Who says that he can’t? And who says that we won’t if he falls short?”

“People can’t keep disappearing around me, Uncle Aidan! It’ll look suspicious.”

“Again, that’s for us to worry about.”

Oh, my god. Was that the verbal equivalent of him patting me on the head?!

“I don’t agree. It’s my life we’re talking about⁠—”

“Precisely.”

“What?”

“It is your life. Not Shay’s. His aspirations aren’t yours. They’re his. I know you’re still stuck on what to study at college, but pick something that brings you joy. That’ll fulfill something inside you.

“Take a subject that’ll make you happy. Pledging to a society of egomaniacal perverts won’t do that. Study poetry. Fine arts. The beautiful aspects of life. Not the shitty quagmire that makes up the day to day. Leave that to us. It’s our honor to protect you from it.”

I know he means well. Genuinely, I do. But I’ve never wanted to punch him more.

“Do you know how condescending that speech was?” I seethe. “I bet you wouldn’t be singing the same song if I were a boy!”

“But you’re not a boy, Victoria. That’s my point. I already have a wife with a mobster kink. Do you know how often I have to keep your aunt out of trouble? How many times she gets in over her head? She alone has more guards than your other aunts put together!

“I’m not saying any of this because I’m a sexist, patronizing asshole. I swear to you I’m not. I know full well what women are capable of. My mother and my wife are two of the strongest women I know. And that doesn’t count my sisters-in-law, who are powerful creatures in their own right.

“But I don’t want that for you. I want you to live your life and be happy. Don’t study poetry if you don’t want to. Get into law. Join the fucking Peace Corps if you have to! Just don’t die by getting involved with a group of perverts who put our asshole president into office and orchestrated the current clusterfuck that’s masquerading as our society. Can you do that for me, honey? Please?”

His earnest desire to keep me safe has me biting my tongue. Mostly because what he said runs in direct misalignment with what my father would have told me.

He’d have sneered that college was a waste of my prime breeding years and his money.

He’d have expected me to spend every day at the gym and salon, ‘working on my hair and nails’ to look good for my husband while doing everything I could to get pregnant.

Not one thing Uncle Aidan said revolved around hearth, home, the kitchen, babies, or a husband.

So, I don’t punch him.

Because he wants me to be happy.

“I love you, Uncle Aidan.”

He blinks at me. “I love you too, honey.”

But that doesn’t mean I’m going to listen to him…

Freak Accident Leads To Oakwood Patron’s Tragic Death

By

Morgan Neige

Today’s campus-wide blackout had a deadly source—a devastating gas explosion that pulled down several electric lines.

The house of respected Oakwood College benefactor, Peyton Kirkland, was at the center of the freak accident that emergency services are reporting as an issue with a kitchen appliance.

Firefighters struggled to contain the blaze, which occurred at six in the morning.

Several bodies were recovered—Peyton, his son, Ciaran, an Oakwood College student, as well as two other family members including Peyton Kirkland’s nephew, Ronan, who recently suffered severe injuries in a car crash.