Chapter 72

As I made my way to my car, the cool evening air did little to stop the storm building inside my chest, and the phone buzzed in my pocket. I kept thinking about Emily's choice from earlier in the day. The gravity of what I had asked her to do was too great for me to ignore. However, my mind became more focused when I looked at the screen and saw Victor's name.

"Victor," I said, maintaining a steady tone of voice in spite of the abrupt increase in tension.

"Ethan, my boy," he said in a kind, almost paternal voice. "Are you free tonight?"

I paused, looking out at the far-off city lights. "I need to finish a few things at the office."

Victor said smoothly, "Cancel them," which was not exactly an order. "Please come to my house. It's been too long since we've had a proper conversation. A bottle of your preferred scotch is waiting for you."

I hesitated, already realizing that I had no real option. "I'll be there."

"All right. I'll send the address. Be careful when driving."

Before I could answer, the call ended. I tightened my jaw, got into the car, and drove out of the lot. With each mile, my shoulders became more tense. Victor rarely called me without a purpose, and his tone tonight had been deceptively light.

In sharp contrast to the bustle of the city, the mansion was nestled on a vast estate. As I got closer, the gates opened, and a security officer gave me a nod before letting me pass. The driveway meandered past sculptures illuminated by gentle, golden lights and immaculately mowed lawns.

I was met at the door by a butler who took me down a hallway lined with artwork that was likely more expensive than my penthouse.

The butler indicated a pair of double doors and said, "Victor is waiting in the study."

The enormous study was filled with book and artifact shelves. Victor stood by the fireplace with a glass of amber liquid in his hand, dressed in a well-tailored suit as though he were getting ready for a big event's gala. When I walked in, he turned, a warm smile spreading across his face.

He walked across the room and said, "Ethan. It's good to see you."

I shook Victor's hand and said, "You too."

He pointed to a leather armchair and said, "Sit. Relax. You've been working too hard."

He insisted that I relax, but I sat down with my back straight. He sat across from me, his eyes piercing even in the dim light, and handed me a glass of scotch.

Swirling his drink, he noted, "You're quiet tonight."

I acknowledged, "I wasn't anticipating a social call."

Victor gave a deep, almost reassuring laugh. "You know, it's not all about business. You should know that by now."

I gave a nod but remained silent. With Victor, it was safer to keep quiet because it revealed nothing.

His eyes darted to the fireplace as he leaned back. "You know, you make me think of him."

I didn't have to ask who he was referring to. "Who?"

He said, "Of course you don't know," with a hint of laughter. It was a dry laugh, though.

And he went on, "My son. He was your age mates. One could argue that Henry was a father figure to him as well."

"You had a son?" I said, almost in a whisper, shocked to hear it.

Victor's face softened as he nodded. "He was strong, intelligent, determined-just like you. Losing him" He took a slow sip of his drink and trailed off. "It created a gap. One that's hard to fill."

The pressure of his words caused me to shift in my chair.

He went on, in a kind but determined tone, "You've done more than I ever expected. Henry might not have seen it, but you've got a strength that most men can only dream of."

The subliminal reminder that I owed him and that he valued me when others did not was there.

I carefully said, "I'm just trying to keep everything together," as I watched his response.

He grinned and remarked, "And you're doing an excellent job so far, Ethan." However, resist the urge to give in to the pressure. Balance is what I wanted to discuss tonight.

I arched an eyebrow. "Balance?"

"Ethan, life is more than just work. You've been running yourself ragged, handling everything alone."

With a clipped voice, I answered, "I'm used to it."

Victor looked at me for a while, his face unreadable. "You're not required to be. Was it difficult, for example, when you called me to get Richards off your back?"

He interrupted me before I could reply, saying, "I am not your enemy, Ethan; we are, I suppose, family."

I was surprised by how earnest his tone was. The warmth in his eyes seemed genuine for a moment, as if he truly cared. However, I was aware. There was always a reason, a purpose, with Victor. And I was aware that he was getting ready to ask for a favor in return, which I would be unable to refuse.

"Is there a specific topic here?" I inquired, returning the discussion to a topic I knew well.

Victor put down his glass and laughed again. "Ethan, not everything is a transaction. To remind you that you are more than the sum of your obligations and transactions, I brought you here. You are significant to me and the family we have created.

Family. The word made my chest twist. Victor used it like a weapon, knowing exactly where to aim it, but I wasn't sure I still believed in the idea.

I said, "Thanks," in a neutral tone.

Satisfied, he nodded. "Now, finish your drink. I'll have the chef prepare something for you before you leave."

The conversation shifted to lighter subjects as I stayed for an additional thirty minutes. Victor talked about his planned trip, the market, and art. But beneath it all, I could feel the unspoken expectations hanging in the air.

My shoulders felt heavy by the time I left, even though the scotch was warming my chest. Despite Victor's claim that it wasn't about business, it always was.

I kept thinking about what he had said as I drove back into the city. You are significant to me and our family.

I tightened my hold on the steering wheel. Family. Despite Victor's best efforts to persuade me otherwise, I wasn't sure I could ever claim that word.