The weekend sun beat down on the Apex Capital shareholders gathered at the golf course. Most were men of a certain age, restricted to low-impact sports. Even so, the August heat was punishing; ten minutes on the green left them drenched in sweat.

Director Simpson handed his club to a caddy and retreated to the shade of the clubhouse. Director Pierre was already there.

"Giving up?" Pierre asked.

"Too hot," Simpson replied, reaching for a bottle of mineral water. "I'm getting too old for this."

Pierre looked out at the figure still on the course. "Look at Harold. Still going strong."

"Harold has always been competitive. I can't keep up with him."

Pierre narrowed his eyes. "He's been a bit out of line lately, though."

"What have I done now?" Harold asked, stepping into the air-conditioned room half an hour later. His skin was flushed red from the sun.

He was a man who led from the front in both business and sport, but the toll of age was beginning to show in the set of his shoulders.

"I don't usually meddle in family affairs," Pierre said, skipping the pleasantries. "But when you bring family infighting into Apex Capital, it becomes a matter of poor discipline."

Harold frowned. "Infighting at Apex?"

"You didn't know?" Simpson chimed in. "The Synapse AI IPO was postponed."

Harold knew about the delay, but the specifics had been kept from him.

"Your grandson, Oliver, reported Samuel for trading violations," Pierre informed him. "Samuel was forced to suspend his work, which stalled the project. Without that distraction, a rival firm's report wouldn't have slowed Samuel down for a second."

Harold's expression went cold.

The atmosphere at the family dinner was suffocating. Harold had clearly received the full report. Samuel sat in his chair, composed, ignoring the anxious looks of his relatives.

Halfway through the meal, Harold spoke. "Samuel. Is the investigation over?"

Samuel set his chopsticks down. "It is. I've resumed my duties."

"Who reported you?"

"I'm not sure."

Harold turned to his second son. "Benedict, do you know?"

Benedict looked up, startled. "Father, you suspect me?"

Beside him, Oliver Frost's hand shook, his grip on his chopsticks wavering. Benedict saw the tell-tale sign and slammed his hand on the table. "Oliver! Was this your doing?"

"I... I..." Oliver stammered.

"Apologize to your brother," Benedict barked. "I told you to learn from him, not invent lies to sabotage him."

"It wasn't me," Oliver blurted out. "Aunt Eleanor told me to do it. She gave me the internal files."

Benedict turned to his younger sister. Eleanor lifted her chin, her face a mask of calm. "An analyst reported Samuel to me. I simply followed legal protocol. The investigation cleared him. No harm done, right?"

"No harm?" Harold's voice was a low thunder. "You compromised an Apex Capital project. The shareholders are breathing down my neck. I encourage healthy competition, not fratricide."

The room went silent. No one dared to move.

Zara Vincent (Harold's wife) placed a portion of greens on Harold's plate. "We said no business at the table. Don't work yourself into a state. You'll end up back in the hospital."

Harold's temper simmered down, but his tone remained severe. "How am I supposed to hand over the family legacy when they act like this?"

"The children will find their own way," she murmured. "Just take care of your health."

Harold didn't scold them further. Instead, he shifted focus. "The Noning Real Estate acquisition..."

The table held its collective breath. Only Samuel remained unmoved, focused on his meal. Harold looked at him. "Samuel, your thoughts?"

"I've been focused on the Synapse AI listing, Grandfather," Samuel replied, his tone respectful but distant. "I haven't followed the Noning deal closely."

Harold had practically handed him the opening to reclaim the project, only to be rebuffed. He looked at his incompetent son and his cold daughter and let out a sharp exhale. "I'll handle this project myself. None of you touch it."

Benedict panicked. "Father, your health—"

"I'm not dead yet."

The rest of the dinner passed in a graveyard silence. When it was over, Harold summoned Samuel to his study.

"You really don't want the project?" Harold asked.

"My investigation just concluded," Samuel said. "I have the Synapse AI listing to manage. I wouldn't do the Noning deal justice."

"Didn't I give that listing to your aunt?"

"And that is why it was postponed."

Harold fell silent. After a moment, he said, "Your mother is back in the country."

Samuel didn't react. He and Catherine were both busy; they communicated on major issues, but they weren't a "warm" family.

"She's getting remarried," Harold added. "Did you know?"

"I'd heard."

Samuel had met his mother and her partner—a cellist for a major European orchestra—during the last New Year. For the first time, he had seen his mother look truly happy, free from the suffocating weight of Frost family business.

"She is still a daughter-in-law of the Frost family," Harold said slowly. "We can afford to support her."

"Grandfather, my father has been gone for many years."

"She is in the family registry. There is no reason for her to marry out."

Samuel's pulse quickened. He felt the trap closing.

"I understand she's worked hard," Harold continued. "If you cooperate with my arrangements, I will ensure her wedding is a grand affair. And Sonny's past... we can consider the slate wiped clean."

A threat.

Samuel felt a wave of ice wash through him, but his face remained a mask of granite. "Sonny did nothing wrong."

"If not for him, your father would still be alive!" Harold's eyes snapped shut, grief etching deep lines into his aged face. "If not for him, I wouldn't have lost my best son."

Samuel remained rigid and silent.

"I am nearly eighty years old," Harold sighed. "I'm still laboring for the group. Do you think I don't want to retire? But look at you all. How can I trust any of you with the empire?"

Samuel lifted his gaze. Beneath the restraint, his eyes were razor-sharp. "Grandfather. The reason you haven't retired isn't because you can't trust us. It's because you refuse to let go."

Harold's face drained of color. He had played the part of the stern patriarch for decades; no one had ever called his bluff so directly. He shook with rage. "You... you..."

Samuel didn't wait for the explosion. He took a step back, his manner polite but entirely detached. "I have work to finish, Grandfather. I'll visit again soon."

He left the study and said his goodbyes to his grandmother, stopping to pet her large ginger cat.

"You know how he is," she said, squeezing his hand. "He has one foot in the grave and he's still as stubborn as a mule. He says harsh things, but he cares for you. Don't take it to heart. If you're hurting, tell me. I'll give him a piece of my mind."

Samuel offered a rare, soft smile. "I know, Grandmother. I can handle him."

He left the Frost estate and immediately received a call from his mother. "I just landed. Can we talk?"

"I just finished dinner," Samuel said. "I'll come pick you up."

"Don't bother," Catherine replied. "I didn't call earlier because I didn't want you making the trip. I'll grab a cab."

Samuel went home to wait for her. When she arrived, her first words were: "I'm getting married."

"Grandfather mentioned it," Samuel said, taking her bags. "Congratulations."

Catherine had spent decades as a Frost daughter-in-law. She knew the family rhythms. "What did the old man say to you?"

Samuel hesitated. "You must be tired from the flight. Let's get you settled."

"Samuel. I'm speaking to you."

"He didn't say much," Samuel said evenly. "He just mentioned your wedding."

Catherine wasn't convinced. "I won't judge his character, but you know how dominant he is. If he said something to pressure you, ignore it."

"I know."

"Don't carry the weight of the world, Samuel," she added. "We are family, but we are independent. Sonny and I have been fine abroad. You don't need to do anything more for us."

He didn't need to do anything. She had someone else now.

Samuel looked down, a faint bitterness touching his heart. In the low light, his features took on a shadow of Catherine's own vulnerability.

Catherine softened. "You know Sonny's situation. He has his fixed patterns. He hates change and he doesn't make friends. Even if you bring him back, he wouldn't survive this life."

Samuel thought of Sonny as a child. Cars and planes—mundane things to most—had been monsters to him. A boy who was too afraid to go to preschool had been forced onto a plane to a foreign land.

Samuel closed his eyes. "I shouldn't have let Grandfather send him away."

Catherine shook her head. "You were just a child, Samuel. You were badly injured yourself. You couldn't have decided anything."