We didn’t storm Ryan’s room. We cornered him. Strategically. Like spies in suits with emotional baggage and a moral crisis. Jack didn’t knock. He opened the door like it was his. Because of course it was. The perks of being twin billionaires included universal keycard access and the privilege of being perpetually invasive. Ryan looked up from his laptop with the most casual expression in the history of potentially explosive conversations. Like he’d been expecting us. Or worse, like he already knew.
“You know why we’re here?” I said, because I couldn’t stop myself from being dramatic.
Ryan didn’t blink. “If it’s about Ezra... I had a feeling.”
Jack folded his arms like he’d been waiting for that. “You suspected him?”
Ryan nodded once, slow. “Not fully. But he’s always felt... familiar.”
