Page 10 of The Heart of Winter

The company I didn’t build.

The people I didn’t hire.

The achievements I didn’t participate in.

I would forever be the fucking ‘undeserving heir’ in their eyes, watched by hundreds, gossiped about behind closed doors—every mistake, every flaw, every ounce of privilege under a microscope.

There was one thing Father managed to instill in me, one value we actually shared: I believed the top job should go only to those who worked hard enough to earn it.

And was I good enough to ‘do the grind’? To reach the highest position? What if I wasn’t talented enough? Just mediocre?

A wave of stress and gloomy predictions washed over me.

"Fa, I really don’t want to work there," I choked out, sounding like a little kid. Every part of me resisted the idea of taking a place that wasn’t mine. "All the employees will see me as your golden boy—"

"More excuses. Give me something new!" Father snorted.

Dad also looked up and watched me like he wanted to hear what I’d come up with too. Vren stared at me impishly, chewing on a piece of medium-rare steak.

"Maybe this life isn’t for me, Father. I’m not like you all. Maybe I don’t want to focus only on grinding to the top… Maybe I want… a simpler life. To have a family," I finished, my voice dropping to barely a whisper, like the words had slipped out before I could stop them.

But as soon as they left my mouth, Vren burst out laughing.

"Sariel wants a bunch of diaper monsters instead of your lucrative job, Fa! Who would’ve thought! Heaven help me, I’m gonna explode—"

Having had enough, I kicked him under the table.

"Fa! Dad! Help! That’s alpha violence against a poor, helpless omega!" he pouted, tossing a full scoop of seaweed into my tea.

"Stop it, Vren. You’re not helping." Father sighed. "And wanting a family is a good thing. I wouldn’t mind you having one, Sariel, but first, you need a partner, and—" He made a theatrical show of looking around and coming up empty-handed. "I see no one here! So stop the nonsense. Focus. This slacking off ends now."

"Father—"

"Enough. Just because we have money doesn’t mean we can afford to raise a freeloader."

Heavy silence filled the room. Vren was still pouting, Dad was still focused on his plate, and Fa was still stabbing me with his dagger-like glare.

Just another casual Sunday at the Lowen house.

After a good half-minute, Fa let out a breath and said, in an almost light tone, "If you behave, I’ll ask Werner to send you some smaller projects. You can design simple things for him: login screens, registration stages, that kind of thing. If that interests you, maybe you can start building some experience in design. But I won’t hand you a management position just because you’re my son."

"Don’t want that!"

"Good. Skill over nepotism. Always."

Skill over nepotism. All or nothing. Those little slogans got tossed around a lot in my family. They were their conversation-enders, favorite summarizers.

I stared at Fa’s face, searching for a way out. Sure, I could get up, walk away, and find a job somewhere else, far away from my self-important family. But one thing held me back…

Perhaps Werner would actually give me some design work?

Maybe, just maybe, there was a slim chance I’d get to do something interesting eventually.

And if Winter Nolan wouldn’t be overseeing me directly, if I never had to deal with him, maybe I could tolerate it? Lorens wasn’t that bad.

Fa studied me closely, and I think he saw the moment I gave in.

"Good," he said, sounding smug. "Looks like you came to your senses," he answered for me before I even agreed. He always thought for everyone else.

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