The backyard is already set up when I come through the side gate. Richard is at the grill, apron on, tongs in hand, looking almost normal. Almost like a regular dad doing regular dad things. Margot is setting the patio table, humming to herself, arranging napkins and silverware with the careful attention she gives everything.
For a moment, I let myself pretend. Regular family. Regular dinner. Regular life.
Then the brothers arrive.
Atlas first, coming down from his office, sleeves rolled to his elbows, tie loosened. Our eyes meet and the memory slams into me—his thumb in my mouth, suck, good boy—and I look away so fast my neck aches.
Zero next, emerging from the house in all black, the bruise on his cheekbone faded to sickly yellow-green. He doesn't look at me. Hasn't looked at me since Friday night, since the frozen peas and the cruel smile andyou ruined us, Max.
Bane last, looking tired in a rumpled button-up with the sleeves shoved to his elbows, like he just got back from a long day. He catches my eye and something flickers across his face—guilt, want, frustration—before he shuts it down.
Richard looks up from the grill. "Steaks are almost ready. Medium-rare for everyone?"
"Medium-rare for me," Atlas says, loosening his tie another inch.
"Same," Bane adds.
Zero just nods, not looking up from his phone until Richard clears his throat pointedly. He pockets it with a scowl.
We spread out around the patio table. Richard stays at the grill a moment longer, flipping meat, while Margot passes around a bowl of salad, then a basket of rolls.
"So, Max, how were classes today? You've been working so hard lately."
"Fine." I take a small portion of salad. Push a cherry tomato from one side of my plate to the other. "Just lectures."
"Anything interesting?"
"Not really. Economics stuff."
The silence stretches. Margot soldiers on.
"Atlas, how's the Carrington merger coming? Richard said it's been keeping you busy."
"Tricky, but on track." Atlas tears a roll in half, methodical. "Should close by end of month."
"That's wonderful." Margot beams like he's just announced he's cured cancer. "And Bane, honey, how was your day? You look tired."
"Long." Bane reaches for the wine bottle, pours himself a generous glass. "Vendor issues. Had to spend three hours on calls sorting out a shipment delay."
"That's so frustrating. Did you—"
"It's handled."
Another silence. Richard flips the steaks, the sizzle filling the gap.
"Zero," Margot tries, her voice determinedly bright. "Any plans for the weekend?"
"No."
"Nothing at all? Maybe you could—"
"I said no."
Richard's jaw tightens. "Zero. Your stepmother asked you a question."
"And I answered it."
The tension ratchets up a notch. I stare at my salad, willing myself to disappear.
