Chapter 5: The Golden Boy’s Shadow
1003 Words
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The Carter estate was a mansion carved from stone and steel, perched on the hills like a castle looking down on its subjects. Inside, it smelled like old leather and expensive bourbon—masculine, cold, and distant. Just like Brian’s father.
Brian parked his McLaren in the driveway and shut the door harder than he meant to. His chest still burned from that archery class. From Zen’s eyes. From the way the crowd cheered for him like he was the new prince.
He entered through the marble foyer, footsteps echoing. His mother wasn’t home—she was filming in Italy, doing something glamorous and out-of-reach, like always. That meant he was home.
"You're late," came the voice from the study.
Brian didn't answer.
His father, Logan Carter, didn’t need to raise his voice. Every word had the same weight as a fist. The man stepped into the hall, still in his training gear—black hoodie, sweats, football cleats he never seemed to take off even though he hadn’t played professionally in a decade.
“Tryouts today,” Logan said. “Heard a freshman knocked you down.”
Brian swallowed. “He’s not a freshman. He just transferred.”
Logan’s eyes narrowed. “And?”
“And I slipped.”
Logan scoffed. “You slipped. That’s what we’re going with?”
Brian’s fists clenched. “It’s not like I wasn’t ready.”
“Then that’s worse,” Logan said, stepping closer. “You’re telling me you let a nobody beat you while prepared?”
Brian’s mouth opened. Closed.
Logan kept going. “You’re soft. That’s your mother’s influence.”
Brian’s jaw tightened. “I’m the top athlete at Greenwich. I’ve carried this team for two years.”
Logan snorted. “And now people are whispering. Questioning. ‘Is Brian Carter still the best?’ You let that kid walk in and embarrass you in front of your whole school.”
“He’s good—”
“I don’t care if he’s Goddamn Superman!” Logan shouted, voice suddenly thunderous. “You’re my son. My blood. You don’t lose. Especially not in my sport.”
Brian’s breath hitched.
Logan moved closer, lowering his voice again. “Do you know what it cost me to build this name? What I sacrificed so you could live like a king? You’ve had it too easy. Private school. Cars. Cameras. I bled for this. And all I ask—all I ask—is that you protect it.”
Brian turned away. “You mean protect your reputation.”
“I mean, live up to the name.”
Silence.
Then Logan added, “You have a game in two weeks. I want 5 touchdowns. No excuses.”
Brian’s heart pounded. “I can’t guarantee—”
“Yes, you can. Or you sit the bench. I’ll make sure Coach knows.”
Brian spun. “You’d sabotage your own son?”
“I’d motivate him.”
“You’re sick.”
“No, Brian. I’m focused. And you should be too. Because if this Zen kid is really as good as they say, you’ve got two options: outshine him or let him take your crown.”
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That night, Brian didn’t eat dinner. He went straight to his room and punched the heavy bag until his knuckles bled.
He used to idolize his father.
Until he realized Logan didn’t love him.
Not him, the son.
He only loved the idea of Brian—the legacy.
And now? That idea was being threatened.
By Zen.
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The Next Day
Brian stared out the tinted window of the Bentley as it rolled up to school. Students already pointed, whispered, snapped photos. He usually loved this part—the attention, the admiration.
But today, a different car had arrived before his.
A sleek, custom midnight-blue Jaguar engine is still humming. And stepping out of it was Zen. In his signature black jacket, shades, and that maddening calmness—like nothing touched him.
Heads turned.
Even Wendy looked. Wendy, Jeremy’s girlfriend, who’d once declared Brian the “hottest guy in three zip codes.”
Brian stepped out of the Bentley slower than usual, clenching his jaw.
He walked past Zen with a sideways glance.
Zen didn’t even look at him.
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Later
Brian hit the gym harder than he ever had. Weights slammed. Sweat poured. Coaches watched him warily—he looked possessed.
“What’s going on with you?” Jeremy asked. “You’re acting like you’re in a war.”
“I am,” Brian muttered.
“You mean with Zen?”
Brian dropped the weights. “He’s making me look like a joke.”
Jeremy crossed his arms. “He’s not doing that. You are.”
Brian looked up, startled.
“You’re chasing him like he’s your enemy. But he’s not even trying to compete with you. He’s just... being himself.”
Brian looked away.
“Maybe that’s what scares you.”
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At Home
Brian found Logan in the backyard gym, barking orders at a private trainee.
“Out,” Logan said when Brian entered.
The trainee nodded and left, sweat trailing behind him.
Brian stood silently, then said, “I’m doing everything I can.”
Logan didn’t look at him. “Not enough.”
“I’m not you.”
“No,” Logan said, turning to face him. “You’re not.”
Brian flinched. “Maybe that’s a good thing.”
Logan stepped closer, towering. “You think being different makes you strong? It makes you replaceable. Legends aren’t different. They’re better.”
“I’m trying to be me.”
“Then be someone worth remembering.”
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That night, Brian stared at his wall of trophies. They suddenly looked... small.
Like props in a play he didn’t want to be in.
And for the first time, he wondered:
What if Zen doesn’t care about winning?
Truly, Zen didn’t care about winning she was just having fun and being the best version of her
What if he’s just... free?
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- Writer
