The Monster in the Mansion

The Black family’s second estate sat far from the city—isolated, silent, and wrapped in the scent of rain and rotting roses.

Inside, every curtain was drawn, and sunlight hadn’t touched the floors in weeks.

Empty whiskey bottles rolled lazily across the marble. A single man sat in the corner of the large, dimly lit living room, slouched on a couch that had once been snow white but was now stained with amber rings.

Travis Black.

He hadn’t shaved in days. His dark hair was messy, and his shirt was half-buttoned, soaked with spilled alcohol.

The clock ticked.

He didn’t move.

On the table beside him—photographs. A woman with a laughing face. The same face he’d tried to forget a thousand times but couldn’t.

He lifted another glass to his lips, hand trembling.

> “To love,” he muttered hoarsely, voice dripping with sarcasm. “The biggest lie in the goddamn world.”

The butler, Mr. Hayden, entered quietly, carrying a tray of food. He had served the Blacks for decades, but even he tread lightly around Travis now.

> “Sir, you should eat something,” Hayden said softly.

Travis didn’t look up.

> “Leave it.”

> “You’ve not eaten since yesterday—”

A plate shattered against the wall before he could finish.

> “I said leave it, Hayden!”

The butler bowed silently, gathering the broken pieces. He’d long stopped arguing. Travis Black had become a ghost trapped inside his own mind.

---

Hours later, footsteps echoed down the hallway — sharp, deliberate, familiar.

Eleanor Black.

She didn’t knock before entering. The smell of alcohol and stale air hit her immediately, but she didn’t flinch. She had seen her son like this for months.

> “Travis,” she said firmly. “Turn on the light.”

He didn’t.

> “If you’re here to preach again, don’t waste your time.”

> “I’m here because I’ve made a decision,” she replied, stepping closer. “And you will listen.”

He looked up then — his eyes bloodshot, hollow, yet burning with restrained fury.

> “What decision?”

Eleanor’s gaze hardened. “You’re getting married.”

Travis let out a bitter laugh that sounded more like a growl.

> “Married? You’ve lost your mind, Mother.”

> “No, Travis. You have,” she shot back, her patience thinning. “You’ve locked yourself away for months. You drink yourself to death every night, and the media is beginning to notice. Do you have any idea what this is doing to our family name?”

> “I don’t care about the family name!” he shouted, slamming his glass on the table. “I didn’t ask to be your perfect son!”

> “Then stop acting like a child,” Eleanor snapped, her voice trembling between anger and exhaustion. “The world will not wait for you to feel better. You will marry this girl—Luna Richard—and you will learn to live again.”

He stood suddenly, knocking the glass over. “No. I won’t marry anyone! You can’t make me.”

Eleanor’s expression turned cold as steel.

> “If you refuse, I’ll cut your name from the family trust. Every company share, every property, every cent—gone.”

For the first time, Travis went still.

Eleanor’s tone softened slightly, almost regretful.

> “You leave me no choice, Travis. I’m your mother. I’ve watched you destroy yourself. This is the only way I can save you.”

He stared at her — eyes dark, jaw clenched, breath shaking.

> “You’re not saving me,” he whispered bitterly. “You’re burying me alive.”

She turned to leave, her heels clicking against the floor. At the door, she paused.

> “The wedding is in two weeks. Hayden will handle the arrangements. And Travis—try to look human that day.”

The door closed behind her.

Travis stood motionless for a long time. Then, with a roar of rage, he swept the bottles off the table.

Glass shattered everywhere.

He punched the wall until his knuckles bled.

Breathing heavily, he slumped back into the darkness, whispering to the empty room:

> “Luna Richard… whoever you are… stay away from me.”

Outside, thunder rumbled through the night again.

Inside, the man everyone once admired had become something else entirely — something dangerous, wounded, and waiting to break again.

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