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drramseysrookie · 1 year

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Sins of the Father

Summary: Mason Dalton was bred to be at the top of the game, but finding a sturdy foothold is proving more challenging than he initially thought. With pressure mounting from all sides, an unforeseen event could be the catalyst he needs to cement his legacy. Warnings: General Mature Content. Anxiety Disorders. Mentions/Use of Prescribed Substances Word Count:

Prologue

Mason Dalton leaned heavily on the counter in front of him. The ringing in his ears was incessant and he could feel his chest getting tighter with every breath he took. Just outside the door, dinner was still in full swing. The sounds of laughter and chatter drifting from the dining room were muffled by the heavy wooden door, and Mason couldn't be more thankful for the reprieve. Around him the tiled walls had begun to spin and the ringing in his ears had grown louder. He gripped the counter's edge until his knuckles turned white and forced air in and out of his tightening lungs. With great effort he pried a shaking hand from its place on the counter and began frantically searching his pockets. Goddammit. Where had he left them? He knew better than to go anywhere without his prescription, but each pat of his pockets turned up nothing.

Just when he'd become resigned to his inevitable meeting with the bathroom floor, the door swung open and a wave of fresh air washed into the room. His wife, Vivian, stood in the doorway, her eyebrows drawn with concern.

"Mason?"

"Close the door." His voice came out sounding strangled and small.

Vivian stepped inside the small bathroom and closed the door behind her. "Here. I figured you needed these."

She popped open the small clutch bag in her hands and produced an orange pill bottle.

Mason quickly took it. He fumbled in his attempt to get the white cap off, but in seconds had two of the tiny pills in his hand. He tossed them in his mouth and leaned down over the sink, drinking water straight from the faucet.

"Better?"

Mason gave a single nod in response. The pills needed time to work, but just knowing that he had them in his system provided some relief. He moved over an inch as Vivian came to stand next to him at the counter.

She picked up one of the neatly folded hand towels and ran it under the faucet stream.

"You shouldn't let your father rattle you like that." She touched the damp towel to his temple. "He's just looking to shake your confidence."

"I know that." Mason's eyes drifted away from Vivian's face to the shimmering necklace resting around her neck. Clear cut diamonds. A family heirloom from his mother's mother, given to her as a gift on their wedding day. It was meant to be a symbol of his love for her, a reminder. But as of late it had become a statement piece worn simply to spite his mother. Not that he could blame her.

He forced his eyes back to hers. "Trust me, I've known the man my entire life."

"So, let's come up with a plan." Vivian had sat the towel aside and was now working on straightening his tie.

He swatted her away and made the adjustments himself. "I have a plan. Dalton Enterprises is a success in the making. The third quarter earnings report will show that. All I need to do is keep him satisfied until I have something to throw in his face."

"But you can't do that if you're having panic attacks in the washroom."

Mason shot her a look and her returning gaze was steady. He hated when she looked at him like that. Like he was fragile. He was a CEO. A Dalton, dammit. He didn't need to be coddled. Sympathy and pity were not things he desired. That was her wheelhouse.

Vivian sighed. "All I'm saying is, you can lean on me. We're a team, remember?"

"Leaning on you is like leaning on a house of cards. Especially considering the past four years." Vivian looked like she'd been struck and that alone should have told Mason to stop, but instead he added, "Or have you forgotten your own prescribed cocktail?"

The silence that followed made the small room feel even more cramped. Mason studiously avoided taking in his wife's expression, pretending to fuss over his shirt cuffs, before finally clearing his throat.

"We need to go back. We've been gone too long."

Not waiting for a response, Mason gave himself a once over in the mirror before plucking his pill bottle off the counter. He began to put it into his pocket out of habit, but then paused.

"Hold these for me. I don't want-"

"I know. You don't want them rattling in your pocket." Vivian snapped up the bottle from his hand and dropped it in her clutch. "You already told me earlier this evening." Her tone was clipped.

A beat passed between them.

"Thank you." His voice was quiet.

He risked a quick peek in her direction and found her expression cool and impassive. She gave a small, formal nod before turning on her heels and striding from the bathroom.

Mason followed a second later. His longer strides allowed him to close the distance easily. He reached out and gently touched her arm, causing her to pause in her tracks. She turned toward him, her face an emotionless mask in the dimly lit hallway.

"Let's go in together." His voice was low so that only she could hear. They were just paces now from the dining room and the voices of the others could be easily heard.

Mason was loath to depend on anyone for comfort. It was one of the few things his father had taught him that he'd taken in stride. But hearing the man's ostentatious chatter even here at this distance had him longing for support.

He offered Vivian his arm and hoped that she would concede even with the mood he'd put her in.

She took it without so much as a glance up at him. He supposed he was grateful for that. Without seeing the contempt in her eyes, he could at least pretend he had an ally in the room.

They began walking again, side by side.

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