Greg's Pov
Over dinner, my siblings were all present.
Well… "siblings" is a generous term. We shared blood, technicaly and a last name, legally but personality wise and Values, Connection? Not a single damn thing.
They sat across the long dining table like polished mannequins with perfect posture, perfect smiles that looked way to strained. My siblings were the kind of people my father molded into reflections of himself. Cold, controlled and overly calculated.
Nathan's eyes flicked between them, reading the room in seconds. He leaned just slightly toward me, his voice low enough only I could hear.
"These are your siblings?"
"Unfortunately." He hid a smirk behind his glass.
My step-mother sat at the head of the table because of course she did greeting Nathan with a strained, polite smile that didn't reach her eyes. She looked him over the same way she looked at expensive furniture: assessing quality, deciding whether he fit the aesthetic or not.
