Chapter 10: First Confrontation

Harold sat behind his massive oak desk, exuding authority. Fred, with his grin as unpleasant as usual, leaned casually against the wall. Mary's expression displayed a blend of anxiety and fear as she sat on the sofa with her hands tightly gripped in her lap, confused about what really happened. Clark confronted the family that had turned his life into a nightmare. He positioned himself at the center of the room, his eyes fierce with resolve, like a lion targeting prey. 

Harold broke the silence, his voice cold and dismissive. "Clark, I don't recall inviting you here. What is this foolishness about?"

Clark's stare didn't waver. "I'm here for answers, Harold. I know what you did. It's time we quit pretending."

Fred scoffed, pushing off the wall. "Oh, here we go. Another Clark pity party. What is it this time? Did the big terrible Miller family ruin your life again?"

Clark turned swiftly to Fred. "Yes, you did. And I have the evidence to prove it. You wrecked my job and left me unable to recover.

Fred laughed, his tone dripping with mockery. "Proof? You? Please don't amuse me. You've been grasping at straws ever since you came inside this home. You're a failure, Clark, and that's the only truth here."

Mary shuffled uneasily, her voice hesitant. "Fred, don't—"

Harold cut her off, his tone stern. "Mary, stay out of this. Clark is scrambling for attention, as usual. "He constantly seeks someone else to hold responsible for his shortcomings."

Clark's hands balled up, yet he kept a steady tone. "You're right, Harold. I failed, but not because of incompetence—because of you. You and Fred launched a slander campaign against me. You pulled strings, made calls, and damaged my reputation. Why? Because I didn't meet your concept of success."

Fred rolled his eyes. "Oh, please. You think you're that important? We don't have time to damage nobodies, Clark. You did that all by yourself."

Mary's voice quivered as she interjected. "Fred, maybe we should listen to him. What if there's any truth to what he's saying?"

Fred looked to her, his smirk fading. "Don't tell me you're buying this garbage, Mary. He's just trying to turn you against us."

Clark drew closer, his voice increasing. "Mary, don't allow them to control you." Observe how they treat me—how they have constantly treated me. Do you believe they wouldn't stoop low enough to damage my life?"

Harold slammed his hand on the desk, his tone frigid. "Enough! Clark, you've remained too long in this home. You ought to have fled much earlier, but you're either too obstinate—or too foolish—to grasp the clue."

Clark glared at him. "I'm not leaving, Harold. Not until you admit what you did. Not until you take responsibility."

Fred laughed bitterly. "Responsibility? That's quite ironic coming from you. "You can't even accept your own shortcomings, and now you want to blame us?"

Mary stood, her hands trembling. "Stop it, both of you! This isn't helping. Can't we just talk like adults for once?"

Clark turned to her, his tone milder. "Mary, I'm trying to talk. But your father and brother won't confess the reality. They're too busy defending their cherished image."

Harold's eyes narrowed. "And what image is that, Clark? The one from a successful family that built itself from the ground up? The one you could never measure up to?"

Clark's voice went frigid. "The image of a family that crushes anyone who doesn't fit their mold. You crushed me because I wouldn't play your games."

Fred scoffed. "Oh, get over yourself. You think you're the first person to suffer troubles in life? Grow up, Clark."

Mary's voice quivered as she yelled, "Fred, stop antagonizing him. This isn't just about you."

Fred turned on her, his tone harsh. "Don't tell me you're taking his side, Mary. After everything he's put this family through?"

"I'm not choosing sides!" Mary's voice became louder, clearly frustrated. "I'm attempting to grasp what is happening, but everyone is too preoccupied with fighting one another to clarify anything!" Her eyes were welling with tears.

As Clark gazed at her, his expression softened. "Mary, I wish to avoid conflict." I want the truth. That's all I've ever wanted."

Harold's laughter was unpleasant. "The truth? Fine. Here's the truth, Clark—you were never decent enough for this family. I gave you a chance because Mary asked me to, but you squandered it. You're a failure, and you always will be."

Clark's voice was keen as a sword. "And you're a coward, Harold. You hide behind your wealth and power, but deep down, you're frightened that someone might see through the facade. Well, guess what? I see you."

Fred surged forward, his voice oozing with malice. "Watch it, Clark. You're treading a fine line here. One false action, and you'll regret it."

Clark faced him without flinching. "I've regretted nothing more than trusting any of you. But that ends now. I'm done being your punching bag."

Mary's voice broke through the tension, wobbly but determined. "Clark, please. Don't make this worse. You don't have to do this."

Clark stared at her, his eyes filled with pain. "Mary, they ruined my life. Don't ask me to just let that go."

Harold's voice boomed, final and unyielding. "You're done here, Clark. If you think you can come after me or my family, you're more mad than I imagined. I'll bury you so deep and alive, I promise, no one will ever hear from you again."

Clark's jaw tightened, his voice low and menacing. "Do your worst, Harold. But know this: I'm not frightened of you anymore."

Fred chuckled darkly. "You should be. You're nothing compared to us, Clark. Nothing."

Clark ignored him, his gaze riveted on Harold. "This isn't over. Not by a long shot."

Mary's voice faltered as she begged, "Please, Clark. Don't do something you'll later regret." Feeling highly concerned and emotional.

For a minute, Clark gazed at her with a soft expression. "The only thing I regret is not seeing the truth sooner." Feeling self pity.

With that, Clark turned and went out, the tension in the room so heavy it was oppressive. Inside, Harold, Fred, and Mary were left in silence, the cracks in their once-united front beginning to appear.

Clark, meanwhile, clenched his hands as he walked away. The war had just begun, and he was ready to fight.