Chapter 3 - Julian
Theo arrived late enough to make a point of it.
He's not rushed, not flustered. He moved through the restaurant as if time were optional, his jacket unbuttoned along with the top button of his dress shirt, and no tie in sight. His practiced smile was already in place, as if this were a casual drink instead of a family reckoning.
“Sorry,” he said easily, dropping into the chair beside me. “Traffic was a nightmare.”
My father didn’t look at him.
Richard North lifted his glass, took a measured sip of wine, then set it down with deliberate precision.
“Traffic?” he repeated.
Theo grinned. “Chicago’s full of surprises.”
“You’re late,” my father said.
“Yes.”
“You’re careless.”
Theo shrugged. “I am here.”
The silence that followed was sharp.
Theo reached for the breadbasket, unfazed. Same dark hair as mine, worn longer. Same bone structure. Same last name. The resemblance only ever seemed to irritate our father.
“I texted,” Theo added. “Didn’t want you starting without me.”
“I didn’t,” Richard replied coolly. “We were waiting.”
Waiting. Always waiting.
Theo didn't wait for the server; he reached across the table, grabbed the bottle of wine and poured himself a generous glass, then signalled the server for another bottle.
Theo took a swig and then glanced between us. “Looks like I missed the warm-up.”
“You missed nothing of substance,” my father said. “Julian understands the situation.”
Theo’s gaze slid to me, eyebrow lifting. “Do you?”
“Yes,” I said flatly.
I always understood.
“Good,” Richard replied. “Then we can dispense with euphemisms.”
He turned to face me fully.
“You need a wife,” he said. “And you need an heir.”
There it was, no framing, no pretense, straight to it.
Theo let out a low whistle. “Wow. Straight to reproduction.”
“This is not a joke,” Richard said.
“Agreed,” Theo replied and then pouted. “But it is wildly unfair that no one ever asks me when I will pop out a few kiddos.”
My father didn’t miss a beat. “That’s because you shouldn’t.”
Theo laughed, sharp and surprised. “Jesus.”
I kept my expression neutral, even as something coiled tight.
“You think this is about tradition,” Richard continued, eyes on me. “It’s not. It’s about expansion.”
“Expansion,” Theo repeated. “Of the family line?”
“Of the portfolio,” Richard corrected.
He leaned back, steepling his fingers, while scanning the room.
“When I married your mother, my valuation increased eighteen percent within two years,” he said calmly, eyes coming back to me. “Perception of stability matters. Investors respond to continuity. Married men with heirs are statistically viewed as lower risk.”
Theo stared at him. “You’re talking about children like assets.”
“I’m talking about reality,” Richard said. “Marriage expanded my network, diversified my influence, and reinforced my legacy. Julian’s birth alone coincided with a twelve percent increase in long-term investment confidence.”
I clenched my jaw.
“You tracked that?” Theo asked, trying and failing to mask his horror.
I don't know why he was shocked. Dad has always been Dad.
“I track everything.” Richard’s gaze never left mine. “You don’t have the luxury of delay, Julian. You are visible. Successful. Unanchored.”
“I’m not unanchored,” I said.
“No?” he questioned calmly. “You’re becoming an isolated risk with each passing year.”
Theo leaned back, studying Richard now. “You make marriage sound like it's only good as a business incentive.”
“It’s a solution,” Richard said, eyes still on me. “One you’ve been avoiding. Did you look at the folder I sent you?”
I took a slow breath. “I don’t make decisions like this under pressure. This isn't something that can be forced.”
Richard’s mouth curved faintly, as if he had anticipated this, and yet it didn't matter. “You make decisions by solving problems. And you have a problem. You need to solve it.”
I didn’t argue because my attention betrayed me.
She was seated now, leaning toward the woman beside her, listening intently. Her hand rested briefly on the other woman’s forearm, an instinctive gesture of comfort.
It was an interaction that looked so easy for her, human.
The opposite of this table.
And then a man approached her. Not just any man... Graham Whitaker.
My age, from old money, sits on many philanthropic boards. With solid political access. A man whose attention carried weight. He smiled as he spoke to her, posture relaxed, familiar. She returned the smile politely, listened, and nodded. His eyes never left her.
And then he handed her a card.
Not casually.
Intentionally.
My stomach twisted, without my permission. I told myself it was only business, professional.
But why did I care?
I didn’t like questions that didn’t have leverage.
The server broke my line of sight, and I focused on the wine being delivered and our food being served. But not before my brother caught on.
Theo chuckled and smirked. “Well, damn.”
I snapped my gaze to him. “Don’t.”
He grinned wider, like this was a sport he could actually win. “Has someone managed to catch your attention, Julian? Let me guess... You’ve been staring at her since before I got here.”
“I haven’t.”
“You absolutely have. This is delicious.” He crowed.
Theo enjoyed chaos when it wasn’t his.
Richard noticed anyway.
“She draws attention,” he said, tone unreadable. “Men like Whitaker wouldn't waste their time if she didn't.”
I stiffened. “You already made your point.”
“No, I don't think I have,” my father replied. “I’m reinforcing it.”
Theo let out a low laugh. “So this is what this is about. You think he should pick someone like her.”
“Someone like her, potentially...” Richard countered, “Someone who understands how rooms work, how money is made. She could be a solid addition to your net worth.”
“She’s not a strategy,” I said.
Richard tilted his head. “Everything is a strategy.”
I felt something sharp and unwelcome cut through my composure.
“She’s nothing,” I said. “A variable in the room.”
“So, you've said,” my father replied evenly, “Variables are only a threat when ignored.”
Theo glanced at me, expression unreadable for the first time. “You, okay?”
“Yes.”
It was a lie.
Richard lifted his glass once more. “To the future.”
Theo hesitated.
But I didn’t, I never did.
I raised my glass automatically, muscle memory overriding instinct.
“To the future,” I said.
The wine burned on the way down.
I looked back once more.
She laughed at something Whitaker said, unaware of the attention she drew, or the conclusions being made about her.
I didn't understand what kept pulling my focus to her, but I had a feeling this was the beginning of a problem I already knew I would have to solve.