Kamsi's radiant smile faltered as Xavier vaulted over the balcony railing, his movements sharp, restless. He landed beside her with a tension that clung to him like an approaching storm. His usual easy confidence was absent, replaced by something brooding, simmering beneath the surface.
"What's with the gloomy face?" she asked, tilting her head, concern flickering in her eyes.
Xavier exhaled hard, running a hand through his already disheveled hair. "For starters, Mr. Alastair—"
"You mean your dad?" she interrupted, her lips curving into a teasing smile.
His jaw tightened. "Yeah. Right. My... dad." The word felt foreign on his tongue. "He invited me over for dinner."
Kamsi's eyes brightened with curiosity. "That's good news, isn't it?"
Xavier scoffed, shoving his hands into his pockets. "For him? Maybe. For me? A disaster."
Her brows knitted together. "Why?"
He let out a dry chuckle, but there was no humor in it. "Because I'll have to sit across from his insufferable wife and my overly enthusiastic step-sister."
Kamsi placed a gentle hand on his forearm, her warmth grounding him. "Just try to enjoy yourself, okay? And please—don't start a war at the dinner table."
Xavier huffed, the corner of his mouth twitching as he leaned toward her. "No promises."
She sighed dramatically before breaking into a smile. Then, with a soft touch, she pulled him into a lingering kiss, her lips a momentary distraction from the storm awaiting him.
The Alastair estate loomed before Xavier like a relic of a life he never felt part of. Stepping inside, the cool marble floors gleamed under the soft chandelier light, the faint scent of expensive cologne and aged wood heavy in the air. He felt like a stranger in a house that once should have been his.
His father stood at the entrance of the dining room, his smile warm but uncertain. "Welcome, son."
Xavier forced himself to meet his gaze, keeping his expression unreadable.
Before he could reply, a blur of energy rushed at him.
"Xavier!" Jade beamed, practically bouncing with excitement. She flung her arms open as if expecting a hug.
He barely managed a smirk. "Yeah. Hey."
Undeterred, she looped her arm through his and practically dragged him to the dining table. The tension in his shoulders coiled tighter as he met the sharp, assessing gaze of his stepmother. Mrs. Alastair's lips curved into a slow, measured smile—too perfect, too poised.
"So glad you could make it," she said smoothly, her voice dipped in something that wasn't quite sincerity.
Xavier said nothing, simply pulling out a chair and sinking into it.
Dinner began in stiff silence, the soft clinking of silverware filling the space. Then, like a predator waiting for the right moment, Mrs. Alastair struck.
"You're the captain of your basketball team, aren't you?" Her voice was silk, but there was an edge beneath it.
Xavier's fingers tensed around his fork. "Yeah."
Her smile didn't falter. "I suppose it's good to have... some kind of talent. Not everyone is cut out for more intellectual pursuits."
The insult slithered between them, deceptively polite.
Xavier met her gaze head-on, a slow smirk tugging at his lips. "Hard to believe, huh?" he mused, voice smooth but laced with a sharp edge. "That I can actually do both?"
A flicker of irritation flashed in Mrs. Alastair's eyes before she took a slow sip of wine. "Let's not do this right now," she said, setting her glass down with deliberate grace.
Jade, sensing the growing tension, jumped in with practiced ease. "Dad! Xavier's big game is on Friday. Can I go?"
Mr. Alastair's face softened. "Of course! We'll all be there."
A moment of hope flickered in Xavier's chest—short-lived, because Mrs. Alastair barely waited a beat before cutting in.
"Might I remind you that our merger meeting is that evening? Surely, we aren't canceling for a... school game."
A sharp clang echoed as Xavier's knife struck the plate, the force making the cutlery tremble. The air in the room thickened.
Mr. Alastair sighed, rubbing his temple. "Ah... I forgot. I'm so sorry, son. I promise to make it up to you."
Xavier let out a low, humorless chuckle. "As usual." His voice was quiet, but each word landed heavy. Cold. "Not the first time."
Silence.
His father hesitated, swirling the wine in his glass but not drinking. His fingers tightened around his napkin. For a brief second, his gaze flickered to Jade—like she reminded him of something, something he had already lost. But he didn't argue. He just let the silence settle, as if accepting the accusation was easier than denying it.
Jade, ever the peacemaker, seamlessly steered the conversation away, her voice animated, her words filling the uncomfortable space. Xavier let her, focusing on his food, his movements slower, more controlled. Mrs. Alastair threw a few more barbs his way, but this time, he refused to bite. If there was one thing she hated more than his presence, it was when she couldn't get under his skin.
Mrs. Alastair's voice was sweetly laced with poison. "Your mother must be so proud of you. Raising two children on her own, without the stability of a proper home. That must have been... difficult."
Xavier's eyes flashed with anger, his jaw tightening. "Funny. You'd think someone with all this wealth and power wouldn't be so insecure about a woman he left behind."
Mrs. Alastair's smile stiffened at the edges. "I suppose not all women have enough dignity to move on, do they?"
The air was electric with tension as Xavier's cutlery paused mid-air. His voice, when it came, was dangerously quiet. "It's no one's fault you couldn't give your husband a reason to stay."
Mrs. Alastair's face turned crimson. She pushed back her chair abruptly, her voice a sharp hiss. "How dare you—"
Bang!
The sound of a glass hitting the table silenced the room. Mr. Alastair's expression was unreadable, but his voice was steel. "Enough."
Silence.
Mrs. Alastair and Xavier exchanged glares, their anger momentarily suppressed. The rest of the dinner passed in stony quiet, the only sound the clinking of cutlery on plates.
The silence stretched long after the last plate was cleared. Xavier was already halfway to the door when his father's voice stopped him.
"A word, Xavier."
He turned, expression unreadable.
His father led him into his study, the air between them thick with words left unsaid.
"So," his father started, leaning against his desk. "After college—what are your plans?"
Xavier narrowed his eyes. "What, you think I don't have any? That just because you're not in them, I don't have a future?"
Mr. Alastair held up his hands, placating. "That's not what I meant." A pause. "I just wanted to know if you've thought about what's next."
Xavier studied him for a long moment. Then his father spoke again—dropping the bombshell.
"I was hoping you'd join me in the business."