Chapter 17
1101 Words
The room was too quiet for a morning meeting.
Francis sat at the head of the long glass table, arms folded, expression unreadable. The air conditioning hummed low, and the security screens behind him flashed between footage from different parts of their estate. Andrew stood by the wall, hands in his pockets, tapping his foot. He always hated this room as he was not one for meetings,he preferred the lavish gangsta life to an office life.
“Is this going to take long?” Andrew asked finally, not bothering to hide his irritation. “Because I was working before you summoned me.”
Francis didn’t respond right away. He flipped through the printed reports on the table, pausing at a page marked in red ink. “This came from Bogotá. Two of our suppliers are pulling out of the new route. They’re scared.”
“Scared of what?” Andrew asked. “The route is protected. Unless…”
Francis looked up, his eyes sharp. “Unless someone has been talking.”
Andrew scoffed. “You think I leaked something? What the f**k Francis?”
“I didn’t say that.”
“But you’re thinking it. Aren't you brother?”
“I said nothing, Andrew. You’re the one getting defensive.”
Andrew clenched his jaw. “Because every time something goes wrong, you look at me like I’m the loose end.”
Francis leaned back in the chair, calm but cold. “Maybe because you’ve been one, more than once.”
Andrew’s laugh was short and dry. “You always play that card, huh? One bad call three years ago, and you’re still holding it like a badge.”
Francis stood up slowly, papers in hand. “Not one. Four. The shipment in Monterrey. The cash drop in Veracruz. The misfire in Havana. And the little fiasco in Tijuana? Or did you block that one out too?”
Andrew stepped closer to the table, fists balled. “You’ve made mistakes too, Francis. But Dad doesn’t talk about those. He covers for you.”
Francis’s face didn’t change, but his grip on the papers tightened.
“I do what I’m asked,” Francis said, voice low. “I follow orders. I don’t spend half my time drunk or chasing models in Spain while the rest of us are fixing what you break.”
Andrew’s nostrils flared. “Screw you, man.”
There was a tense silence. Only the clock ticking on the wall marked time.
Francis gathered the papers into a folder. “We’re done here. I’ll handle it. As usual.”
Andrew didn’t move as Francis brushed past him. The door clicked shut behind him.
He stayed in the office a moment longer, staring at the black leather chair that used to be his father’s favourite spot.
By the time they both got home that evening, the storm had already followed them in.
Their estate was quiet as usual. The guards nodded as the twins returned separately, Francis heading straight to his wing while Andrew paused in the hallway. He saw their father’s study door was open and figured Francis had gone in.
But something in him snapped.
He turned and marched toward the study without knocking.
Inside, Edmund sat in his usual chair, swirling a glass of whiskey, listening to Francis go over the report from earlier. Neither of them looked surprised when Andrew walked in.
Edmund raised his eyebrows. “What is it?”
Andrew stood stiffly by the door. “Let’s just say I got tired of keeping my mouth shut.”
Francis rolled his eyes. “Here we go.”
“I’m talking to him, not you,” Andrew snapped.
Edmund didn’t look impressed. “Get to the point.”
Andrew stepped forward. “Why is it always him?”
Edmund tilted his glass. “Him?”
“You know exactly what I mean. Everything. Every decision. Every mission. Every time I breathe, I have to ask your permission, but he gets free rein.”
Francis looked smug. “Maybe it’s because I know what I’m doing.”
“Shut up, Francis!”
“Enough!” Edmund’s voice cut through the air.
The room froze. Even Francis took a step back.
Edmund stood slowly, placing the whiskey glass on the desk. “You are not a child, Andrew. Stop acting like one.”
“I’m the firstborn,” Andrew said, quieter now but still burning. “I’ve done everything you asked. I waited for my turn. I trained. I studied this family’s books since I was a kid. But it’s always him. You treat him like the crown prince, and I’m just the backup.”
Edmund walked around the desk, hands behind his back. “Francis has discipline. He doesn’t complain. He doesn’t need to be reminded to show up on time or keep his mouth shut in meetings.”
Andrew stared at him in disbelief. “That’s what this is about? Being quiet? Francis is a snake. Everyone sees it. You just don’t care.”
Francis spoke again, voice like ice. “Maybe you were never meant to lead, Andrew. That’s not a crime. Some people are just built for second place.”
Andrew’s face twisted. “You’re a coward hiding behind Dad’s approval.”
Edmund’s voice turned cold. “That’s enough. Both of you.”
But Andrew was already walking out.
He didn’t go to his room. He went to the balcony overlooking the garden. The night air was cold and the city lights flickered in the distance. For a moment, he just stood there, gripping the railing, feeling like the floor had shifted beneath him. A part of him was expecting a terrible response from Edmund but not something as heart-wrenching as this.
He heard someone step beside him. It was Hannah.
She didn’t say anything. Just looked at him.
“They’ll never see me,” Andrew said quietly. “No matter what I do.”
Hannah looked down at the garden. “Then make them.”
He turned to her, surprised.
“You’re not stupid, Andrew,” she said. “You know how this house works. If you want something, take it. Stop waiting for Dad to hand it to you. He won’t.”
He swallowed, hard.
“Just be careful,” she added. “Francis doesn’t play fair. And he’s not as loyal as Dad thinks.” She says as she walks away.
Andrew looks into the vast land filled with cars and large golf field with a grin on his face like he just found the answer he has been looking for.
- Writer
