Chapter 7: The Final Defiance.
For a long moment, Spencer simply sat there, his head bowed, letting the silence around him fester until the tension was almost palpable.
"May I offer a toast as well?" Spencer spoke up all of a sudden, his voice piercing through the chatter.
Not waiting for their reply, He pushed himself up from his seat, the sound of the chair's legs scraping against the marble floor echoing with a harsh sound that drew every eye in the room toward him.
"And what use could your toast possibly be, Spencer?" his eldest step-sister sneered, her blue eyes flickering with a mixture of boredom and irritation. "Just sit down before you embarrass yourself any further than you already have today."
"Spencer, enough of this nonsense. You have already made enough of a scene with your earlier outburst," his father added.
Once more, they ridiculed and talked down to him, And yet, he didn't stop.
He didn't bow his head or offer a stammering apology. Instead, he began to walk slowly around the long dining table, his demeanor calm.
The more he walked, the more uneasy the family members became; the rhythmic thud of his boots on the floor seemed to sync with the frantic beating of some their hearts.
" Hey! Don't you have ears?! They just told you to sit back down."
" Are you deaf or something?!"
" Has the fool finally gone senile."
They began admonishing him more loudly, their voices rising in pitch as they demanded he return to his seat, but he paid them absolutely no heed.
The more he refused to listen to their commands, the more worried and bewildered they became. They exchanged frantic, confused glances, thinking to themselves that the talentless boy had finally lost his mind under the pressure of the annulment.
To them, this was the erratic behavior of a man who had finally snapped.
Spencer only stopped once he was standing directly next to Francesca. Throughout his slow circuit of the table, she had remained utterly composed, her back straight and her gaze fixed on the wall opposite her, not bothering to glance at him in the least.
"Not even going to look at me now, Francesca? After all these years, I never thought you to be this heartless." Spencer said, his voice dropping to a low, intimate whisper that carried a sharp edge of accusation.
"What do you want, Spencer..." she finally replied, her voice as calm as a frosty lake.
She turned her head slowly to glance at him, her crimson eyes devoid of the warmth he once remembered, replaced by an indifference that was more painful than any insult.
"Am I now too insignificant that I can't even toast the woman who was once my fiancée?" Spencer asked, a self-deprecating smirk playing on his lips.
Francesca said nothing for a long, drawn-out moment, her gaze fixed on his, both staring into each others eyes in silence, only after awhile did she speak again.
"Do as you please," she said eventually, retracting her gaze as if she had grown bored of the interaction.
But in the very next moment, the composed silence of the room was shattered. Before anyone could react, Spencer reached for a nearby glass of dark, heavy wine and tilted it.
A stream of the cold, wet wine splashed directly onto Francesca's head, dripping down her raven-black hair, staining her flawless skin, and soaking into the fabric of her exquisite crimson dress.
"There... now you both look perfect for each other," Spencer spat coldly, his eyes moving to Andrew, who was sitting nearby with a look of stunned horror.
"Spencer!" His father, Edward, growled angrily, the sound vibrating with a Tier 3 intensity that shook the glasses on the table. Even the Lord of Bellwood, Gustav, flashed him a viscous, predatory stare, his hand tightening around the hilt of his ceremonial sword.
"How could you?!" His father's second wife shrieked, her face pale with shock at the blatant disrespect he just showed.
"You bastard! How dare you do that to her!" Andrew jolted up from his seat, his face flushing a deep, angry red as he looked at the wine dripping from his new fiancée's hair.
Facing all their heated, murderous glares, Spencer didn't flinch. Instead, he forced a look of profound hurt onto his features, staring back at them with a gaze that burned with a carefully crafted resentment.
He looked like a man pushed beyond his breaking point, his voice trembling.
"If you all hated me so badly, all you had to do was kill me! Why did you have to put me through all of this? Why invite me here just to watch my life be handed to my brother?" he cried out, his voice cracking before everyone present.
"Not once did I ever complain or try to fight back against your treatment! I would've been happy to live on the sidelines for the rest of my life, so long as you were all happy and the family stayed strong, but now you go ahead and do this to me?!"
"Are you lot even worthy of being called a family? Just how heartless are you?!" he yelled at them, his eyes moist with unshed tears that glistened under the chandelier light.
"You piece of trash, how dare you raise your voice at us after what you just did!" Spencer's second brother hollered, his own temper finally snapping. He sprang up from his chair and began marching toward Spencer with his fist clenched, intent on beating the "insolence" out of him.
A cold light momentarily flashed past Francesca's eyes seeing this.
"That's enough!"
An enraged voice was suddenly heard. Everyone in the room was forced to come to a sudden, jarring stop as Edward spoke up.
The Patriarch of the Luminous household stood at the head of the table, his presence looming over the room like a dark cloud.
No matter what happened behind closed doors, this was still his home, and he knew that allowing such a debacle to continue in front of the Bellwoods would only make others question his credibility and his ability to control his own bloodline.
"Spencer.... in light of your actions today and the unforgivable disrespect you have shown our guests, I have taken it upon myself to decide your punishment for such a disgraceful display," Edward said, his tone turning as cold as a mountain peak.
He looked at his son no longer with coldness, but with a visible resentment.
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"As of this moment, I hereby declare that you will be sent to the kingdom's borders. You will join the frontline armies in the subjugation of the demon folks, where you will either regain your honor in the service of this household or perish as a failure in its history," Edward declared, his words carrying the weight of an unbreakable decree.
To the rest of the family, this was a death sentence. The borders were a meat grinder where even talented warriors fell by the thousands.
Edward knew that disowning his son outright might appear weak, and could suggest he was afraid of the Bellwoods or that he couldn't handle his own internal affairs.
By sending him to the war front, he could effectively get rid of this useless, troublesome son while maintaining the appearance of a strict but fair father. He was killing two birds with one stone, cleaning his house while satisfying Gustav Bellwood's demand for retribution.
Spencer, who had briefly worried that his wine-throwing stunt might have been a step too far even for his system-farming goals, felt a massive wave of relief wash over him the moment he heard his father's decree.
Unlike what the others thought, to him, this was the absolute best possible outcome. Being sent to the borders meant he wouldn't have to worry about his family's constant interference in his affairs, and more importantly, it meant he could gather Stat Points from the chaos of war in absolute peace.
While he was internally celebrating the freedom this "punishment" provided, he made sure to keep his guard up. He still feigned a look of deep, bitter resentment on his face, his body shaking as if with suppressed rage and grief.
"As you wish, my lord..." he said through gritted teeth.
Without another word or a single glance back at the shocked faces of his siblings or the wine-soaked Francesca, he turned on his heel and stormed out of the dining hall, leaving the heavy silence of the room.
As he stormed out, Francesca's eyes never left him. For a brief moment, there was even a hint of grief in them?