Chapter 2 Maddox
Chapter two
Maddox
"Iwant it twenty stories tall!" my father's grating voice bellows from the front lounge. It echoes through the foyer, bounces off the cold marble, and assaults my eardrums like a machine gun.
The house is abuzz with Quadlings, Munchkins, and Winkies all hustling to create a grand ball for tomorrow night.
"Merlin had a fucking fireworks display at his fundraiser," my father snaps at the poor soul on the other end of the phone. The clink of crystal signals that he's starting at the bar cart early today.
A young Quadling woman scurries past the door to the lounge. She jumps when my father barks into the phone again, furious about whatever bad news he’s received.
"I don't give a fuck who you have to blow to get it right. Get down on your pretty little knees and open wide, sweetheart."
I clench my teeth so hard that they creak from the pressure.
Less than forty-eight hours since I returned home, and I'm on the verge of a heart attack thanks to the rage I have to swallow every time my father spits out another caustic gem.
Eyeing the front door, I quickly weigh the cost of walking out and riding my motorcycle to freedom.
Back to my old life. It was simple and non-magical, but it was mine.
"I swear to God, Mira, if I don't win this election, I will scorch the fucking earth." My father's voice takes on a bitter, petulant whine now he's off the phone.
Why didn’t whoever he was screaming at question the great and powerful Oz’s inability to handle this himself?
Although knowing my father, he probably communicated that it was beneath him rather than beyond his realm of magical abilities.
He's built a carefully stacked house of cards over the years, maintaining a legion of minions who do his bidding without revealing that he has barely any magical power.
"Have a drink, dear." My mother's gentle voice floats through the open doorway, and I can tell she's started drinking early. Or she's taken her happy pills this morning.
Beautiful, smart, and extremely powerful, my mother was my father's greatest prize.
It was a coup when he convinced her to marry him.
Don't get me wrong, the Ozella family is old money, going back to the days of the original wizards, but the Boncharme side of my family is both wealthy and powerful.
My mother's family built an empire, Boncharme Wellness, and my father has been scheming to control it since day one.
My grandfathers were best friends once upon a time, and the match between my mother and father was made before either of them was born.
But Grandfather Ozella, the original great and powerful Oz, had nothing but disdain for his eldest-born son, a fact my father knew all too well.
It bred cruelty, competition, and an insufferable ego. It created a monster.
My father couldn't hide his true nature.
According to my aunts, he was desperate to win over the Boncharmes before the marriage, but they saw right through his false flattery.
My grandmother, Gigi, and Grandfather Boncharme offered to call off the engagement, consequences be damned.
But my mother was smitten for some godforsaken reason.
You wouldn't be here if not for their marriage, I remind myself—a mantra Gigi instilled in me since my birth.
As a child, whenever I ran to her after one of my father's angry tirades, she would hold me close and whisper in my ear, "If not for him, we wouldn't have you, dear Maddox.
And that would not be a life worth living. "
Gigi is the reason I'm home again. And why I can’t leave.
I shake my head and square my shoulders. Abruptly turning away from salvation, I stride purposefully along the path leading directly to hell.
"Did you confirm that your mother will be here tomorrow night?" my father demands, turning toward my mom with a hard expression as I enter the room. The contempt dripping from the word mother is not lost on anyone.
Mom simply smiles dreamily at my father and nods with drugged-up acquiescence.
"Gigi's coming?" I ask. My grandmother rarely goes out of her way to help Father with anything.
My father glowers at my intrusion, motioning for me to sit on the sofa opposite my mother. I cover my smirk with my hand. It must drive him insane that he can't do this without me, but it gives me immense pleasure.
"Yes, of course. She always helps her family." My mother gives me a slow smile. "I may have mentioned that you’ll be there as well, darling."
"Ah, yes. Using her love for her grandson against her.
How Ozella of you." I wink at my mom, who gazes back at me with sleepy incomprehension.
My father slams the decanter of scotch down on the bar cart and whirls around, pointing his meaty finger at me.
"This family looks out for each other, Maddox.
Sometimes, we have to do hard things. We can't run away like fucking pansies when we don't get what we want. "
I bite my tongue, refusing to react to his dig.
Ten years ago, I left the Land of Oz because I didn't want to become him, or worse, my mother. Stuck in a loveless marriage, getting through the days by tamping down my emotions. That’s not living.
My father's tantrums usually escalate as the day wears on. The more I respond to his goading, the more likely he is to keep pushing me.
Instead, I lean forward and take a different tack. "What do you need from me tomorrow?"
My father's eyes narrow for a moment, assessing my sudden change in attitude.
Like the true narcissist he is, he assumes he's cowed me into submission.
He fills his glass to the top with a sloppy pour and stands behind the couch, refusing to lower himself to anyone else's level.
"You will put on a goddamn suit and charm every person at that ball.
You will represent the Ozella family, and you will not embarrass me. Do you understand?"
He's aged in the ten years since I've been gone. His hair is thinner on top, a fact he tries to conceal with strategic combing. His face is puffy and red. All the Boncharme elixir in the world won’t fix the effects of excessive drinking. His physique was impressive as a young man, but now he’s misshapen and bulky.
Frankly, he looks like the man who ate his former self.
"Do you need my magic?" I ask with feigned innocence, knowing my question will needle the old man.
"Yes, what little of it you have, you should use," he throws back at me with a snort of derision. His beady eyes search my face for insubordination as I nod thoughtfully.
Satisfied with my response, he sips his drink before pacing behind the sofa. The contrast between his single-minded focus and my mother's dissociation from reality would be comical if it weren't so fucking depressing.
"Tomorrow night is about making connections. It’s about power, money, and fame."
Control, greed, and corruption, I correct silently, but nod along with his rant anyway. And because I can't help myself even when it's not in my best interest, I ask, "Why do you want to be mayor? The salary can’t be any better than what you're making in real estate."
My father’s laugh is loud, mirthless, and filled with bitter contempt. "No money in it, huh? It's a good thing I'm running the show then, isn't it?"
I wait patiently, knowing his own importance and ego will prompt him to continue. I don't have to wait long.
"The mayor of Emerald City controls zoning." He stares at me with a twisted version of a smile on his sweaty face.
I furrow my brow in genuine confusion. "You're running for mayor because you need a project rezoned?"
He snorts derisively. "Not just any project. I'm going to build a tourist destination like nothing the world has ever seen."
"A tourist destination in Oz?" I echo back.
The realization of his plan hits me like a ton of bricks.
It's not impossible, and we certainly aren't unknown to the outside world, though visitors to Oz are carefully regulated.
Other places in Fable Forest are open to the public, but to access Oz, a visitor must obtain a charm issued by Emerald City to pass through the gateway into our world.
Anyone can apply for one, but they must be sponsored by a citizen.
It's rare for the people of Oz to have extensive contact with anyone who isn't from here.
Those who visit tend to have special connections.
I swallow hard as I think about the last special visitor—someone who changed my entire life.
"Where are you planning to build this empire?" I inject enough awe into my voice to keep my father talking.
He grins like a crocodile. "Plenty of space if you know where to look for it," he replies, avoiding a direct answer.
An uneasy pit forms in my stomach. Have I returned to Oz in time?
"If I win this election, I’ll make more money than you could possibly dream of.” He gestures wildly, his voice rising in intensity. “More money than the entire Boncharme empire combined."
My mind flashes back to my childhood, when he sat me in this very spot and made me listen to his drunken rants for hours as he extolled the virtues of stepping on other people's backs to get what you want.
My father gulps the rest of his drink and turns to the cart for a refill. "If I'm going to win this campaign, I need as much money as I can get. Tomorrow night, your job is to convince the people to pay up."
Although I keep my face neutral, my mind races with the potential outcome of his plan, the amount of destruction it will cause to the Land of Oz.
Contrary to Grandfather Ozella's belief about my father’s incompetence, he’s erected gaudy statues and gauche buildings emblazoned with the Ozella name and destroyed several influential people in the business world.
Gigi—who attends every awards ceremony to check in on her daughter—is fond of warning her son-in-law that "Fools' names and fools' faces always end up in public places. "
If the shoe fits.
I've heard the rumors about my father since I was old enough to see him for who he really was: a complete fraud. He’s a prolific womanizer, an abusive boss, and terrible at managing money.
But my father’s biggest flaw is a secret: he has about as much magic power as a toddler wizard, yet he's convinced the people of Oz that he's a force to be reckoned with.
I stand quickly, needing air and a chance to think away from the oppressive confines of my father's house. "I'll be there tomorrow with bells on, Father. But now I'm going for a ride."
The next words out of his mouth stop me in my tracks. "Your mother ran into Griselda Westing at a luncheon the other day."
To an outsider, my father's tone would appear casual, but years under his authority allow me to hear the cold calculation that others might overlook.
I look at my mom, bending to drop a kiss on her cheek. "I hope it was a pleasant meeting, Mother."
She turns her head slowly toward me. "She's perfect for you, darling."
I clench my jaw, staring at her for a long moment before lifting my eyes to my father.
Time to go.
I stride purposefully toward the door, but his loud voice once again stops me.
"You've had your fun, Maddox. We've put up with your tantrum and your fucking asinine exploration of the non-magical world. But you have responsibilities to this family. You will be engaged within the next two weeks."
"Weeks?" I scoff.
He narrows his eyes at me. "Either you pick someone, boy, or I will."
My fury is so potent that my blood turns icy, and it takes everything in me not to level him with a pummeling spell. I don't trust myself to speak, so I give him a tight nod and shut the door behind me.
Over my dead body. Or his.