Page 20 of Double Down

A slow smile creeps over his face. "Then you prove what we've feared these last few years—that you four are not built to take over our empires. You will be cut off and forced to make your own way. You will no longer be Titans, and we will wash our hands of you completely. It might do you a world of good."

My jaw is tight enough to crack. Fifteen percent in one quarter. No grace period, no support, no time to transition. No time to plan.

Just an impossible directive: prove you're worth the name—or starve.

Atticus leans forward, elbows on the table like he's about to dissect something. "Why now? You could have handed us a project at any time over the last few years. Why pick this place, right now? Why not give us time to run numbers and develop a plan? Our competitors plan their promos years in advance. Not only that, but Savannah of all the properties."

"You should already know the numbers and the competition," his father says with a shrug. "If you got your intelligence from my side, you've already started forming a plan. If it's from your mother…well, nothing I can do about that now."

Carine shifts in the frame. “Oh, for the love?—”

“Don’t start,” my father snaps, ending their argument before it begins.

They glare at each other. Even through a camera, the hatred is impossible to miss. I cut a glance at Atticus. His shoulders are rigid, posture knife-straight, fingers tapping on his tablet.

He's bracing for the wave from both parents later. His life would be simpler if they'd just get a fucking divorce, but that would mean dividing assets neither is willing to surrender. Every interaction between them that I can remember has been an exercise in hostile negotiation, a cold simmer of resentment and one-upmanship.

Atticus survived by making himself useful.

"You know what kind of mess this property is under the surface. You trained us to spot it. This place is profitable and matches market expectations, but it isn't primed for a jump that aggressive," Storm says, pulling me back to the task. “Especially since you all know the recent issues.

My father lifts a brow. "Then it sounds like you've identified the problem areas and should have no trouble addressing them."

Maverick slaps his palm on the table. "You could've given us a heads-up. Told us to prepare. You're setting us up to fail, and you fucking know it, old man."

None of them react.

They know exactly what they're doing.

This isn't a gift, or even a trial by fire. It's a trap that they’ve laid specifically to see what will happen.

The Titans are never given anything. They take by any means necessary. And if I know anything at all about our parents, that’s what this is all about.

"Do you want the chance to prove yourself or not?" my father asks, tone sharp.

There is no real choice here.

Fuck.

I meet his eyes through the screen. "We'll take it. But you’re going to have to pry it from my cold, lifeless fingers if you want it back."

"Good." He leans back. I move to disconnect. "Then let's be clear about expectations moving forward."

Of course he isn't finished. I draw my hand back and wait.

"You will produce the following by the end of the quarter: a fifteen-percent increase in total net profit, improved VIP retention metrics, and a transition report showing your individual and collective competencies in business operations."

Out of the corner of my eye, I see Phoenix’s phone light up. She grabs it and frowns down at the screen. I tap my fingertips soundlessly against the tabletop. She is a distraction I’m not sure we can afford anymore.

"This isn't a job—it's a goddamn hostage situation," Maverick mutters.

I see Storm in the camera behind me. His posture reads relaxed, but his jaw flexes. He's already in strategy mode, running personnel changes and security upgrades. We all need sleep, food, coffee—and then we need to deal with the corpse that Maverick put God-knows-where.

Instead, Atticus types on his tablet without looking up, probably already projecting numbers.

And me? I should be thinking overall strategy. Instead, my gaze drifts to Phoenix.

She hasn't moved. Has barely blinked. But I can feel her mind turning over every word. She knows what this means. She knows the bullshit our parents pull. Where does this leave her?