XXII.

His father threw a pile of paper on the desk between them. Stuart took a deep breath. It was only a matter of time before he found out. "You managed to fail every single one. Again." Mister Malcolm, a bulky man dressed in posh suit leaned over the table. His thick grey eyebrows gathered into a displeased line as they often did when he spoke to his younger son. "You know I am the one paying for your studies? It's my pocket you're drying out when you waste time on nonsense instead of dedicating yourself to education. Have you seen Oliver's grades? He excels in everything! It would be silly of me to expect of you to be even half as good as your brother, but this is humiliating!"