“What is the problem?” Octavius repeated, still in a state of shock.
Mr. Button squinted at Octavius as though scanning his face for answers to an unasked question, and then he ahhed. “I’m not asking you to shoot me like some hapless animal, if that’s what you’re afraid of. It would all be private. My doctor knows about it and has agreed to provide the morphine, but understandably won’t be able to administer it because of the risk to his medical license. I would just need you to be the one to inject the medication into my bloodstream; it shouldn’t take long. Dr. Benson estimates ten minutes at most.” His father casually rattled this off, as though discussing a simple business merger. “If you agree to do me this favor, Octavius, I will restore your entire inheritance. There will be no other conditions, no hidden agendas.”
Silence followed, Octavius glaring down at his father, who was continuing to calmly play himself at chess.
“You want to pay me… to commit murder?” the boy finally said.
“Yes. Though I didn’t realize it would bother you so much… considering you’ve done it before,” Mr. Button replied with a tired grimace.
Octavius froze, a chill running through him now. “That was an accident,” he said.
“Was it now?” Mr. Button said. “I didn’t realize that deliberately tampering with the brakes on a car constituted an accident.” There was a moment of complete stillness as his father looked on at him with a bone-chilling coldness.
His father was making it sound like he had hurt Adam on purpose.
He felt shaky as he finally forced himself to speak. “I—I d-didn’t know you were giving the car to Adam. I didn’t mean to hurt anyone… I didn’t think—”
“That’s right, you didn’t think. And then a boy died and now I have to pay a small price to ensure that the Gray family never feels the urge to investigate the truth behind Adam’s death. Thanks to me it remains a tragic accident, and not the handiwork of a child with too much time on his hands.” Mr. Button’s words hung between them both in the constricting air of Olympus.
His words resembled the truth so closely that Octavius had convinced himself over the years that they were the truth. That he was nothing more than this thoughtless boy who did this bad thing. But the truth was a lot more complicated than that.
The truth was an intricate spiderweb fueled by a series of tragic events.
And the true story began a few weeks before that night three years ago. The night of Adam’s death. The night of the seventh-annual Prodigy Ball, where a white-haired boy, so desperate to impress his father, did something he most definitely should not have done.
Octavius Button had always been skilled with his hands. It was why he had taken to music so quickly, and also why, during the summer of his twelfth year of living, he’d started working on cars in the garage at the back of the Manor for fun. Teaching himself how to repair and disassemble any vehicle.
He’d become so good at doing this that he’d even gotten himself a secretweekend job at a garage, far enough from the Manor that no one other than his sister Fola knew about, where he’d fix cars for a man known as “Big Rick” (which he’d always found to be a strange name seeing as Rick was neither tall nor large).
Octavius had become so good at fixing cars that he sometimes considered it might be his real prodigy talent. And like with all his talents, he couldn’t wait to showcase it to his father.
The Manor’s main garage housed many impressive cars. There were fifteen or so similar-looking automobiles, and he’d made his choice at random, noting its exact color, its registered license plate and key detailing. Then quickly began his careful dismantlement.
His plan had been to meddle with the brakes, and perhaps one or two other parts needed for optimal car function. He’d known his father periodically liked to take the cars for a drive around the estate, so Octavius had hoped that eventually his father would notice that one of the cars was not working and would call the mechanic to come and fix it, but instead, Octavius would be on hand to come and save the day—showing off his very impressive skills and in turn making his father proud.
This, of course, is not what happened. Unbeknownst to Octavius, his father had gifted that particular car to Adam Gray for his eighteenth birthday a week before the ball, after getting it completely customized (like changing it to Adam’s favorite color—electric blue). It looked nothing like it had before. Yet it was the same car that Adam took Bilal and Octavius for a ride in. The same car whose brakes could therefore not, at the pivotal moment, stop them from crashing into the tree, nearly killing them all.
And it was all Octavius’s fault.
His father had told him as much once he’d found out why the car had failed that night. He’d lived with the weight of this mistake for three years, and would have to live with that knowledge for the rest of his life. Knowing he was the reason Adam had died. That his actions had caused so much pain.
He was glad nothing happened to Bilal. He could barely live with himself as it was; if he’d killed his brother too, he wouldn’t be able to live at all.
It had been the reason he’d left the Manor for good soon after. It was the reason he’d had his inheritance slashed. The reason he barely spoke to his family anymore, and hated returning to the Manor. It was all a reminder of how lethal his touch truly was.
And the worst part was that none of this would have ever happened if he hadn’t cared so much about making his father proud.
Octavius didn’t realize he was crying until he felt the uncomfortable sensation of tears tickling his chin. He sniffed and wiped his face. “I… I need to think,” he said, turning away from his father now.
“Take your time. But do remember that I am dying and would like to get this over and done with as soon as possible.”
“Y-yeah, I’ll be, umm, quick,” Octavius said as he discreetly took his phone out from his pocket and sent out a text.
Octavius:BENJAMIN IS IN OLYMPUS.
And then he slipped his phone away, still not turning around.
He wasn’t actually thinking it over. He already knew he wasn’t going to do it, even if it meant his inheritance would remain depleted.
