The envelope felt heavier than paper should. The driver’s shoes gleamed against the cracked tile floor of the cramped studio, immaculate and deliberate—a piece of the world Brandon had walked away from. He held out the envelope like it might burn him.
“Your father sends his regards,” the man said, voice clipped and calm, but laced with quiet disdain.
Brandon took it. His fingers trembled only once before he ripped the seal open. Inside was a folded check and a single card embossed with the Hughes crest. No words—just a blank line under the figure box.
Julia hovered by the sink, still in her rumpled T-shirt, watching as realization drained the color from Brandon’s face.
“Name your price,” the driver continued mechanically. “The family will welcome you back—quietly—if you agree to disapp
