The Vernon family estate looked smaller than Ivan remembered, stripped of the warmth it once held. It wasn’t his home anymore.

He sat in a taxi for a minute before getting out. His gaze became hard. 

With a familiar gesture, Ivan took a coin out of his pocket. After having twirled it in his hand, with the same familiar gesture, he tossed the coin. Without looking at the result, he sent it back to its original place. 

Oliver opened the front door before Ivan could knock.

"I wasn't sure you'd come." 

"Neither was I."

They stared at each other for a moment. Two brothers who once shared everything were divided now by resentment. 

Oliver looked tired. Unwelcome. The easy confidence that had always been his trademark was replaced with something crispy.

"He's in his study. Dinner isn't for another hour."

Ivan walked past him without a word, his footsteps echoing in the foyer. The house smelled of polish and old wood, but it felt hollow

The leather-bound books lining the walls hadn’t changed. His grandfather’s portrait stared down, judging with painted eyes.

"Son." Alexander Vernon looked up from his armchair near the antique globe. 

In his prime, he was commanding and decisive, filling rooms just by his presence. Now he was a defeated human, and that was painful to witness.

"Dad," exhaled Ivan. "Oliver said you wanted to see me."

Alexander gestured to the chair across him. 

"Sit here. Please."

Ivan remained standing. He'd learned that position mattered in conversations like this. 

Height. Distance. The ability to leave whenever you wanted to.

"I'm fine here."

“Very well,” Alexander pointed with his hand at his whiskey glass. "Drink?"

"No."

"Right. You never drank much.” Ivan chuckled. His father continued without noticing it. “Too precise. Yet too irritable." 

Alexander took a sip, his eyes focused on his son’s face. "Like your grandfather."

"Is that supposed to be an insult?" Ivan’s eyebrows went up. "He was a good man. Built his company from nothing." 

"Of course, he also missed a major opportunity that came his way. Too careful to take risks." Alexander's voice carried a strange edge. “Always so cautious.”

Ivan's jaw tightened. “His caution made us strong.”

"Did it? Or did he build something so rigid it couldn't adapt?" Alexander leaned back in his chair. "Tell me, Ivan, what’s our family worth now?”

"You know exactly what it was worth. Ivan’s voice was low, heat rising in his chest. “You had everything.”

"Your warnings, your endless complaints about what we shouldn't do." Alexander's voice turned sharp. "Just like him. Always finding problems everywhere."

“I was trying to protect what we had.”  

"You were trying to control it. Just like he did." Alexander stood, walking to the window. "Do you know what he told me when I took over? 'Don't make any moves I wouldn't make.' Can you imagine? Forty years of my life, and I was supposed to be his shadow."

"So you chose Oliver to be yours."

"Oliver had ambition. He reminded me of myself at that age. He saw possibilities instead of obstacles." 

Alexander glanced at his father's portrait with disgust. “You reminded me of him.”

Ivan's teeth clenched. "Oliver failed you. Even when you handed him everything.”

Alexander turned. "What?"

“Last spring. He came to me, begging for help to fix his mistakes.”

Alexander's face went pale. "He never said..."

"Of course he didn't.” Ivan lagged madly. bitterly. “Then you’d know your golden boy needed me to save him. I spent weeks cleaning up his mess, protecting your name.” 

"You're lying," the older Vernon visibly crumpled, aging years in seconds.

Ivan pulled out his phone and scrolled through old emails.“Want to see the proof? The late-night pleas for help?”

"You didn't want to hear the truth, did you?" Ivan continued. "Only to not be reminded of grandfather's voice."

"Ivan!" Alexander’s gaze was heavy. 

"What? Ignoring reality would make it go away?"

"I thought you were holding us back."

"Everything my grandfather built.."

Alexander's laugh was bitter. "Who built everything?"

“This family stood long before Oliver.”

“I led it!”

"You were so desperate not to be your father that you forgot why his caution mattered." Ivan's voice cracked like a whip. 

Alexander poured another drink with shaking hands. "You don't understand the pressure..”

"What pressure? Having a son who cares about the core basis and future?"

“The pressure of being compared to him!”

“Damn! You left the management. Why do you need to be compared to him?”

Alexander flinched. "You think I don't wake up every morning knowing I chose wrong?"

"Your choices destroyed us."

Alexander Vernon looked up, his eyes red-rimmed. "And what would you have done differently? Lived exactly like he did? Never taken risks?”

"I would have listened to data instead of chasing dreams."

"Easy to say now."

“You never were like your father; you had your moments.”

“How dare…” he felt disturbed.

“I wouldn’t waste my life proving I’m not you or him.”

“It's not possible to prove this at the moment, right?”

"I proved it already. I built my own life. Where did Oliver lead you?” Ivan’s shout echoed.

Alexander was quiet for a long moment. "The co-leadership position…"

"What about it?"

"Henry Owen asked for you specifically."

Ivan felt something cold settle in his stomach. "Why?"

"He said he needed someone who can help from our side, who can handle complications."

"And you agreed." Contempt sounded clearly.

Alexander paused. "It might be good for you. A chance..."

"What?" Ivan stared at his father. "You don't get it, do you?"

"Get what?"

"I don't need LV anymore. I built my success. Without anyone's approval."

Alexander's face hardened. "Then why are you here?"

"Good question." Ivan walked toward the door. "Part of me thought you might apologize and admit you were wrong. Like a fool, I wanted your recognition."

"..." 

“And you're still defending Oliver. Still acting like grandfather's vision was a failure. Yet he built everything by being smart."

"He built it by being afraid.”

"Tell me something, Dad,” Ivan paused, taking a step. “When Henry Owen's people finish tear our family apart, will you still think opposing a dead man was worth it?"

Alexander didn't answer.

"I'll take the position," Ivan said quietly. "Not because I need to prove anything to the family that decided I wasn't worth listening to."

"Then why?"

Ivan looked back at his father. The man who'd chosen dense childhood grievances over a clear path.

"Because watching Henry Owen dismantle our legacy might be the only justice grandfather ever gets."

He left Alexander sitting alone with his regrets.

In the hallway, Oliver was waiting.

"How did it go?" he sounded jarred.

"He told me why he chose you."

Oliver's face shifted.

"I never asked him to."

"His favorite son. Hmm.” Ivan’s grin was cold. “He said that you reminded him of himself.”

“Young, ambitious! Absolutely! But full of vision?” Ivan screamed, glaring at his brother. 

“And I only reminded him of our grandfather?” He added then. “Seeing problems in every move?" But it looked like he was questioning himself. 

Ivan studied his brother's face. 

"You never told Dad how I cleaned up your mess in secret."

"I was.."

Ivan laughed harshly. "Then instead, you let him lose trust in me. And yet you lost everything."

“The position… we can work together. I have a plan to get it back."

"The scraps Owen decides to leave behind?"

"It's better than nothing."

Ivan stared at his brother with clear incompetence disguised as vision.

"You're right," Ivan said finally. "It is better than nothing. But it's still not enough to undo what you cost this family."

He headed for the front door.

"Ivan, wait."

"I'll work with Henry Owen's. I'll play nice and do whatever they need." He voiced without looking at Oliver.

"Then why do you sound angry?"

Ivan paused at the door. "Because every signature will be proof that you weren't worthy of the trust placed in you."

"And you think you were?"

"I know I was." 

"So what happens now?"

“You’re about to see.” Now he looked at his brother confidently.

 Oliver's face flushed. 

"That's not fair."

"Fair?" Ivan laughed. “Nothing about this has been fair.” 

Oliver's shoulders sagged. "I know I screwed up. As I said, I know how to handle Henry."

“I’m not in the mood to save your ass anymore, brother. And I will not stay for dinner.”

Ivan stepped into the night air. His brother was left standing alone in their childhood home. 

The house is likely to be sold within the year. The thought came bitterly.

He called for a taxi and rushed to the main gate. He was done being a disappointed son for today.

His phone buzzed. A text from an unknown number.

Your father didn't tell you everything about tonight, did he?

Ivan's blood chilled. He looked back at the house, where warm light still glowed in the dining room windows. Oliver's shadow moved behind the curtains.

Another message appeared:

Check your father's study. Top drawer, left side. Before you leave.

The taxi pulled up beside him, engine idling. The driver rolled down the window.

"You getting in or what?"

Ivan stared at his phone screen, then back at the house. 

"Wait here," Ivan told the driver.