James, our chauffeur, opened the back door, and then he stepped out.
Our father.
Sharp suit, salt-and-pepper hair that only made him look more distinguished. His presence carried weight, the kind that silenced a room before he even spoke. He was a man used to being obeyed. A man who never needed to raise his voice to be heard.
And I hated that I still felt small in his shadow.
Memories surged without mercy. His voice, cold as steel. "You're no son of mine, Harry. You've made your choice. Don't expect my house to shelter you anymore."
The way his jaw tightened when he reminded me I was adopted, as though it excused every harsh word. "I was strict because I had to be. If I'd been firmer, you wouldn't have wasted yourself on this… music nonsense."
And his parting shot, the one that burned deepest. "I should never have let your mother convince me to send you to that camp. That was my mistake. A mistake I won't make again."
I swallowed hard, forcing the memories back down as he strode toward us. His gaze slid past me like I was invisible.
He wasn't here for me. He was here for her.
"Faye," he said, his tone clipped, controlled. "Get in the car. It's time to go home."
Faye stiffened beside me. For a heartbeat, I thought she might fold under the weight of his authority. But then she lifted her chin, defiance sparking in her eyes.
"No," she said simply. "Not unless Harry comes with me."
The air between us thickened. My father's eyes darkened, his jaw flexing. He wasn't used to hearing no. Not from anyone—least of all from his precious daughter.
His voice dropped lower, dangerous now. "This is not a negotiation, Faye."
She only tightened her grip on my arm. "Then I'm not going."
Our father's expression hardened, the mask of calm slipping just enough to reveal the iron beneath.
"Enough of this nonsense," he snapped, turning sharply to the man in the suit at his side. "Take her."
James hesitated—just for a second. He'd driven us to piano lessons, to school, to summer vacations. He'd carried Faye when she fell asleep in the car as a child. But loyalty was loyalty, and his hand moved toward her arm.
Faye recoiled instantly, pressing closer to me. "Harry!"
I stepped in front of her without thinking, my pulse hammering. "Don't touch her."
James froze, torn between duty and the unspoken line I'd just drawn. My father's eyes narrowed.
"You forget yourself," he said coldly, his voice cutting through me like glass. "She's my daughter."
I met his gaze, every old wound burning fresh. "And she's my sister. You'll have to go through me."
For a long, tense moment, no one moved. The air was razor sharp, heavy with everything unsaid—the years of resentment, the rejection, the unhealed scars of being the son he never wanted.
Faye's hand clutched at my sleeve, trembling. "I'm not leaving him. Not ever."
My father's jaw locked. "Very well," he said at last, his voice low and dangerous. "If that's the game you want to play, you'll regret it."
He turned on his heel, James falling in step behind him. The black sedan's engine roared to life a moment later, pulling away from the curb and leaving behind a silence that felt heavier than any shouted argument.
I stood rooted in place, Faye still gripping my arm like I might vanish if she let go. In my chest, I knew one thing for certain. This wasn't over.
Inside the house, the door shut behind us with a heavy thud, sealing out the sound of the world.
Faye was trembling. She didn't even try to hide it as she turned and pressed herself against me, arms winding tight around my middle. "Harry," she whispered, her voice raw, "is everything going to be alright?"
I froze for half a heartbeat, then pulled her closer, my chin brushing the top of her head. Her body fit against mine like it belonged there, her heart racing against my chest. I held her tighter than I should've, burying every wrong thought deep as I whispered the only lie I could give her.
"Yes," I murmured. "We'll be fine. I won't let him take you."
Her head nodded against me, though the shiver in her frame didn't ease. "Okay," she breathed. "I trust you."
That trust cut me deeper than any of my father's words.
Because the truth was, I wasn't fine. My hands shook as I held her, though I forced them steady, stroking her back like I could smooth away the fear. Outside, I was her shield. Inside, I was falling apart.
Father never bluffed. If he said this wasn't over, then it wasn't.
I'm the reason there's a target on her back.
Maybe I should've stepped aside. Let him take her, let him drag her back to that golden cage where at least she'd be safe. Instead, I'd defied him. For her. For myself.
Why couldn't I let her go?
The question echoed in my skull, poisoning me. Was it because I couldn't stand to see her cry? Because I couldn't stomach losing the only person who had ever chosen me over them?
Or was it something darker? The kind of selfishness I didn't dare name.
Her warmth bled through my shirt, the press of her body so close it blurred every line I was supposed to keep. I held her tighter, telling myself it was just comfort, just protection. But the longer I clung to her, the more I feared I wasn't protecting her from the world at all.
Maybe I was the danger.
When she was calmer, I brewed her a cup of tea, watching the steam curl like smoke from a fire I couldn't put out. I handed it to her and her fingers brushed mine, she still trembled faintly.
Before I could say anything, her phone lit up on the table. Our mother's name flashed across the screen.
Faye bit her lip, eyes flicking to me before she stood and walked into the bedroom to answer. The door clicked shut behind her, and silence swallowed the apartment.
I sat on the couch, every second stretching longer than it should. My knee bounced restlessly. I tried not to imagine my mother's voice on the other end—pleading, lecturing, bargaining—but the longer it went on, the heavier the weight in my chest grew.
When the door finally opened, Faye came out with a smile that didn't reach her eyes. It was cracked porcelain, fragile and false.
My stomach dropped. "What happened? What did she say?"
Her laugh was brittle as she set the phone down. "He froze my cards."
The words hit like a slap.
"Faye—"
But she cut me off, her voice rising in forced cheer. "Is that all he can do? Honestly, I thought it'd be something worse." She gave a little shrug, waving her hand like it was nothing. "It doesn't matter. I can always get a part-time job."
Her smile quivered. It killed me.
I clenched my fists at my sides, the old wound ripping wider. Father had done the same thing to me when I walked out—that first taste of freedom soured by financial exile. Now he was punishing her too.
"Faye," I said softly, "maybe… maybe you should go back. Just until he calms down—"
Her head snapped toward me, eyes blazing. "Are you kicking me out?"
"No!" I stepped closer, hands up. "God, no. I just don't want you fighting him because of me. He'll go to any length to make you go back."
Her chest heaved, anger and hurt swirling in her eyes before softening into something fiercer. She took a step forward, closing the space between us, eyes boring into mine. "You're my family, Harry. I had to live without you for two years. I don't want that ever again. I won't go. I won't leave you. Ever."
Before I could answer, she threw her arms around me, holding me tight.
Her voice was muffled against my chest. "If our places were switched, would you leave me? Could you go back without me?"
I squeezed my eyes shut, throat tight. My arms locked around her as the truth pressed heavy on my tongue. "I don't want you to suffer."
"I won't," she whispered, pulling back just enough to look up at me with that stubborn, unshakable gaze. "After all, I've got my big brother by my side."
Her words should've eased me. Instead, they twisted like a knife. Because in that moment, holding her so close, I wasn't sure I could keep being only her brother.