4
700words
But she'd cooked for me.
Many times.
She'd once sworn, "I'll probably only ever cook for you, Vincent. No one else is worth the effort."
But later, she'd cooked for Miles too.
Countless times during those three lost years.
It seemed four years knowing Miles Sullivan had effortlessly eclipsed the fourteen years Luna and Lydia had known me.
But it didn't matter anymore.
A bitter laugh threatened to escape. I swallowed it.
Turning to leave.
"Wait!" Luna's voice stopped me. "Vincent, understand this."
"If you walk out that door now..."
"...you sever all ties with us. Completely."
I didn't understand.
Wasn't this exactly what they wanted?
Why did Luna seem hesitant now, almost... reluctant?
My thoughts proved naive.
Luna's question wasn't born of regret; it was confirmation.
"I don't want ties with you either," I stated flatly.
My answer visibly relaxed her.
A burden lifted.
"Well... even an idiot can have some self-awareness."
"Once you've made your choice, don't come crawling back."
"Rest assured," I said, my voice firm, "I won't."
I opened the front door.
Miles was just arriving.
We passed each other on the threshold.
He deliberately shoulder-checked me.
My suitcase fell to the ground. My heart leapt—I couldn’t afford any attention on what was inside.
Miles offered a saccharine smile.
"Oops! So sorry, Vincent! Didn't see you there!"
A man my size? He'd have to be blind.
I bit back the retort burning my tongue.
No point in arguing now.
I bent down to gather my scattered things.
Luna called out from the living room, "Miles! Cupcakes are ready!"
Miles, however, bent down too.
He picked up a framed photo that had fallen out – a picture of eighteen-year-old me with Luna and Lydia.
He gave a soft, derisive snort.
"Vincent... I thought you'd finally moved on."
"Seems you're still clinging to the past."
My eyes narrowed.
He couldn't discover what was hidden behind that photo.
I looked up, forcing tears to well in my eyes.
My voice trembled with feigned desperation.
"Give it back."
Miles's eyes lit up with malicious delight.
He held the frame high above my reach.
"Want it?"
"Beg me."
Luna, now carrying the cupcakes, sounded exasperated.
"Miles, stop teasing. Come on."
To Luna, Miles's cruelty was mere childish play.
Worthy only of mild, indulgent reproach.
I made a sudden lunge for the photo.
Miles twisted away dramatically, slamming his hip against the heavy oak hall table.
"Ouch”,he exaggerated his pain.
Lydia gasped.
"Vincent Foster!" she shrieked. "It's just a stupid photo! If Miles wants it, give it to him!"
"How dare you lay hands on him?!"
Miles whimpered, playing up his injury.
"It's okay, Lydia..."
"Things that mean nothing to us..."
"...might be treasures to someone like Vincent."
Lydia snatched the photo frame from Miles.
With a look of utter contempt, she flung it at me.
"Fine! Take it! Trash for the trash."
The sharp corner of the frame sliced my forearm.
I barely registered the sting.
I gathered the photo and the rest of my belongings.
Walked out the door.
Behind me, the sounds of their laughter – Luna, Lydia, Miles – drifted out.
I kept my face expressionless.
Sometimes, playing the fool has its uses.
I'd always known how to bend to survive.
Back at the small apartment Wesley had secured, I met with him again.
I needed a full picture of Foster Holdings' current state.
"Sir," Wesley began, "Foster Holdings is currently under Mr. Harold Foster's control – your uncle."
"After your... incident... you signed your shares over to the Lawson sisters."
"Your uncle reclaimed those shares."
"He's the majority shareholder now."
"As for your other assets... various relatives found loopholes or pressured the Lawsons to transfer or sell them off."
I listened silently as Wesley detailed the catastrophic losses stemming from my own monumental stupidity.
He glanced at my impassive face, choosing his next words carefully.
"Honestly, sir, those relatives... they're mostly incompetent."
"Thank goodness you eliminated the real threats when you became head of the family."
I didn't comment.
My strategy had always been ruthless – leave no potential rival standing.
It was the only way to survive the Foster family's pit of vipers.
