Another text comes through.
Dad:Please. Do this for me.
I grit my teeth. Jaw so tight I can hear the grinding in my skull.
Dad never asks for anything. He built this empire from nothing, raised us after Mom died, kept us fed and clothed and alive when he was drowning in grief, and he never once asked us to compromise.
But now he's asking.
For Margot.
Because she's worried about her precious son.
Because Max Carter—the kid who won't even look us in the eye—is more important than the three sons Dad already has.
I type back:Fine. I'll reach out.
But I'm not happy about it.
Not even close.
Franky looks up from the crate. "Everything okay, boss?"
"Yeah," I say, shoving my phone back in my pocket. The screen goes dark. The text disappears. The obligation doesn't. "Everything's fine."
Liar.
The drive back to the estate takes thirty minutes.
Thirty minutes of dark highways and streetlights that blur into orange streaks. Thirty minutes of my hands gripping the steering wheel hard enough to make my knuckles ache.Thirty minutes of trying to figure out what the fuck I'm supposed to say.
Hey, sorry I told you to stay out of our way. Want to grab coffee?
So, Margot's worried. Let's talk about your feelings.
Why do you look at me like I'm the enemy?
None of it sounds right.
Because the truth is, I don't want to get to know Max Carter.
He's a disruption. A complication. A crack in the foundation of everything we've built. A reminder that our family isn't what it used to be.
Mom died when I was nine. Cancer. Fast and brutal and I barely remember her face now, just the smell of her perfume and the way she used to hum while she cooked. It was just me, Atlas, and Zero after that. The three of us against the world.
Dad tried. He did. But he was drowning in grief and business and keeping everything together.
We raised each other.
Atlas became the parent. Zero became the protector. I became the mediator. We learned how to survive without her. How to be enough for each other.
And now?
Now there's Max.
Margot's son. The chosen one. The one she chose over the life she had before. The one who gets her attention and her love and her worry. The one who gets everything we worked for handed to him on a silver platter without having to earn a goddamn thing.
I don't hate him.
