-Levi POV-
-Gramercy Tavern Restaurant-
I arrived first.
The restaurant was one of those upscale places tucked into Midtown. Private enough. Clean. Quiet. I hate crowds, and Louis knew that much at least. He picked well. Maybe he still remembered a thing or two.
The waiter led me to the private dining room reserved under Louis' name. And looking at how nervous the waiter was, he obviously knew who I was. I sat with my back against the chair out of habit.
Ten minutes later, Louis showed up. Slightly rushed, but dressed like he had something to prove.
"Sorry. Meeting ran over." He slid the chair across from me and then took a seat. "Didn't think you'd be early."
"Tch. What do you take me for? Now, order what you want."
He didn't reply, but I could see a faint smile on his lips.
We ordered. I kept it simple, grilled chicken and black tea. Louis went for something more complicated, like he always did.
The silence between us wasn't hostile. Just… weighty. Like there was a clock ticking above our heads, and we both pretended not to hear it.
"I didn't expect you to say yes." Louis finally spoke, fiddling with his water glass. "For lunch."
"You invited me. I accept. That's how it worked."
He gave a short laugh, but it was dry. "Right."
I studied him while he avoided eye contact. Still carrying the same insecurities he had when he was a kid, just dressed up in a better suit. Trying to play the part our father carved out for him.
"Are you getting the hang of things?" I asked eventually, cutting into my chicken.
"I guess. It's just… Uncle Kenny seems a bit tough sometimes."
"He's supposed to. And Uncle Kenny said you're doing a good job, so that's a good improvement."
Louis gave me a weak smile. "You would know."
I didn't take the bait.
Louis looked down at his plate. "I used to think you hated me."
"I didn't hate you." I said flatly.
"Then what?" He looked up.
I sipped my tea before answering.
"You were always... do what you want. Reckless in a different way. I didn't have the time or patience to teach you how to survive in our world."
Louis was quiet for a long moment. Then he gave a faint smile, one that didn't quite reach his eyes.
"Well, now Uncle Kenny gets that privilege."
I snorted. "You'll learn more from him than you ever would from our father."
"I already have."
"Well, I guess I'm the main factor you ended up here. I didn't do that to get revenge on you. It's just… I believe learning from Uncle Kenny would help you become a better person." I said that with a flat voice. Didn't want to look like I actually care about him.
He flinched slightly. "I know."
"Good. Don't repeat it again. Especially if it involves Haruka." I said that firmly.
"Seeing you call Haruka senpai by his first name now, it seems like both of you have gotten closer." He said. There's no sarcasm in his tone, it's more like he's relieved.
"Well, I'm glad both of us are getting even closer."
"But I'm surprised you didn't bring him here with you. Did father force you to come without bringing him along?" He asked, and I knew he already knew the answer.
My grip tightened on the fork.
"Does it matter?" I asked with a serious face.
"No… It's just… don't you think it's strange?" Louis looked down again.
"What do you mean?" I raised my brow.
"Our father cherished Haruka senpai more than his own son. So I believe he would like Haruka senpai to tag along with you to use that genius brain of his." He met my eyes. "But this time, he even prohibited you from bringing him along." Louis kept talking.
"And what exactly did you want to say, Louis?"
He hesitated. Then he said carefully, "Levi… What I'm trying to say is, you know how our father is. He never does anything without a reason. And I think… this isn't about Haruka senpai. It's about you."
I stared at him. He looked genuinely concerned. No performance. Just my younger brother, trying to put the puzzle together.
"You're the next heir, Levi." He continued. "And this collaboration isn't just some business deal. It's the biggest architecture firm in the US. It's political. Strategic. And I think… he wanted you here alone for a reason."
Louis' words hit me harder than expected.
I hadn't thought about it like that. I'd been too busy being angry, too focused on the ache of being separated from Haruka, too busy resenting the manipulation. But Louis was right. Father didn't make moves without a longer game in mind.
I looked down at my plate. Appetite gone.
"Maybe." I said quietly. "Or maybe he just wants control."
"Those aren't mutually exclusive." Louis replied. "Control is how he plays the long game."
I exhaled sharply through my nose. "You've grown up."
He gave me a weak smile. "Uncle Kenny's training. Brutal, but effective."
There was a brief silence between us again, but this time, it wasn't awkward. It was a thoughtful one.
Louis leaned forward slightly, voice low. "Just… keep your guard up. We don't know what he's planning. Well, I'm telling this because I'm concerned about you. To be honest, I looked up to you ever since we were kids." This time, he looks down.
I looked at Louis again. And for once, I didn't see a younger brother who needed saving. I saw someone who understood.
"Tch. Didn't expect you to care about me, haha. And thank you for saying that. Well, don't worry. I always have my guard up." I said, pushing back my chair. "But I'll be more careful this time."
Louis stood too, sliding on his jacket. "Good. I don't want to hear about you getting used like a damn pawn again."
I didn't say anything. Just give him a nod.
As we exited the restaurant and parted ways at the sidewalk, Louis stopped me with a hand on my arm.
"I meant what I said earlier," he added. "I'm glad you're with Haruka-senpai. And I hope you protect that."
I held his gaze for a second longer than usual.
"I will."
Then I turned and walked off toward the car waiting for me, my mind already spinning. Not about the deal. Not about the architecture firm.
But about the silence behind my father's decisions.
And what the hell he might be hiding this time.
//SKIP//
The lights of New York flickered below the window like the city was trying to keep me awake. I sat at the edge of the bed, coat discarded, shirt sleeves rolled to my forearms, phone resting in my hand. The quiet hum of the hotel suite couldn't drown out Louis's voice echoing in my head.
"You're the next heir, Levi. He wanted you here alone for a reason."
I hadn't stopped thinking about it since I stepped out of that restaurant.
But I wasn't going to drag Haruka into this.
I hit the facetime call button, calling Haruka.
The screen blinked to life after a few rings, and there he was, hair slightly messy, like he just woke up from sleep. Wait, what time is it in Paris now?
"Levi? Do you realise what it is in Paris now?" He said, rubbing his eyes, trying to fully open his eyes.
"I'm sorry, Haru-chan. I forgot about the time difference. I just wanted to see your face." I said it, quieter than I meant to.
"Levi, did something happen? Long day?" He asked. He looked worried and fully awake now.
I nodded. "Yeah. I need to pick up my father at the airport and then have dinner with him to discuss the meeting tomorrow," I paused before continuing to speak. "And I had lunch with Louis today."
He blinked, surprised. "Really? That's… unexpected."
"Well, I ran into him at Uncle Kenny's office. Had lunch, talked a bit. That's all. Nothing serious."
That was a lie.
I said it smoothly. Not because I wanted to deceive him, but because I needed to protect him. He already had enough to carry. His responsibilities, the pressure of being who he was. He didn't need mine too.
Haruka didn't press, but I saw the flicker of something in his eyes. Concern.
"You sure everything's okay, Levi?" He asked.
"Just tired," I said. "Jet lag's getting to me."
He tilted his head slightly, as if trying to read the truth in my expression through the screen. Still, he didn't question it. "You need rest. Or you'll be dead-eyed and snappy in that meeting tomorrow."
I let out a short, almost laugh. "You're assuming I'm not like that already."
He gave a soft snort, the corners of his mouth lifted. "Fair point."
We sat in silence for a few seconds. Not awkward. Just easy.
"You should go back to sleep." I said, staring at the screen.
"Same goes for you. It's night over there, right? Get some sleep. You need to rest, Levi." He said that with a soft voice.
"I will." I replied shortly.
"Mmm. Stay on the call until I fall asleep?" He asked, voice low.
"Yeah. I'm not going anywhere."
He didn't reply after that. Within minutes, his breathing evened out, his eyes slowly closed, and the kitten curled tighter against him.
I sat there, staring at the screen, the soft rhythm of his sleep filling the silence. And for a moment, the ache in my chest eased.
But the questions remained.
Why did Father really send me here alone?
And what the hell was he planning?
-The Next Morning-
The knock came at 8.00 am. Sharp.
"Mr. Ackerman." Sophia's voice came through the door. "The car's waiting downstairs. Your father already left 15 minutes ago."
Of course he did leave first.
I adjusted my cufflinks, smoothed the coat, and opened the door. Sophia gave me a short nod before falling into step beside me as we made our way to the elevator.
"He didn't say anything?" I asked.
"The chairman said he'll see you at the meeting."
Tch.
Typical.
The drive to the Forma Atelier wasn't long. It's just 10 minutes away from the hotel.
The lobby of Forma Atelier's HQ was as extravagant as I expected. Sweeping ceilings, museum-grade lighting, and minimalist design that probably took five overpriced concept artists to settle on. The receptionist greeted me with wide eyes and stiff formality, clearly they were warned in advance who I was.
"Mr. Ackerman." She greeted me. "Welcome. The executives are waiting upstairs. They'd like to give you a short introduction before the meeting begins."
I stepped into the elevator. Sophia is beside me. "Let's get this over with."
On the 42nd floor, the door opened to a smaller executive lounge where two men were waiting. The CEO, Ansel Fontaine. I heard he's French. And beside him is the head architect, Asher Hayes. My father was already seated, coffee in hand, like he owned the place.
"Mr. Levi Ackerman." Ansel greeted me. "What a pleasure. We've been eager to have you here in person."
I shook his hand firmly. "Let's just hope your proposal's worth the flight."
He gave a small, diplomatic chuckle.
Formal introductions were made. Credentials exchanged, past projects mentioned, more empty pleasantries. I nodded politely and waited for it to come out. The real meeting didn't start until we were seated at that massive glass conference table, surrounded by renderings, models, and overpriced coffee.
Then, the real meeting began.
Forma Atelier's proposal was ambitious. They wanted to collaborate with us on a curated series titled "Architecture as Living Art". Their vision was to exhibit architectural forms, design theory, and conceptual blueprints as if they were fine art.
It wasn't a bad idea. It just wasn't a new one.
They pitched installations, suspended structures in gallery halls, immersive 3D displays of planned cities, and cross-disciplinary exhibitions where architecture met sculpture and philosophy.
It was a good attempt. But it lacked soul.
And that's where I came in.
"You're approaching it like a museum of design." I said, after fifteen minutes of watching Asher excitedly wave through the digital projection. "But what you need is narrative. Structure isn't just geometry. It's a memory. People don't come to galleries for steel and stone. They come for meaning."
I stood, walked to the display, and swiped the digital tablet to change the screen.
"You show them this." I pointed to the sterile 3D layout. "And they'll nod. Then forget. But show them why this building existed, what historical pain or cultural obsession drove it into being. That's what holds people."
I looked at them.
"You're trying to exhibit architecture as art. Fine. Then treat it like art. Contextualise it. Frame it. Sculpt it with emotion."
There was a moment of silence.
Then Asher muttered. "He's right."
I could see my father form a smirk from his seat. Of course. This is what he wanted people to see. How capable I am.
I continued. "Give me your weakest concept. I'll pair it with archival materials, curated sculpture pieces from the same era, a custom soundscape and handwritten theory notes from your lead designer. Then, suddenly, it's no longer a structure. It's an experience."
That shifted the whole meeting.
What followed was nearly three hours of sharp discussion. Timelines, curation strategy, exhibition spaces. I gave them the Ackerman model, not just how to present but how to immerse. By the time it ended, even Vincent looked impressed.
"If I'm being honest," he said as we wrapped up, "We expected to be lecturing you. This was the opposite." He said with a chuckle.
I didn't respond to that. Just packed up my folder and nodded once.
After that, we moved location for lunch.
Of course, it wouldn't end just like that.
A high-end restaurant nearby with a private glass room already reserved. Ansel sat across from me. My father is to my left. Sophia remained outside.
The food was untouched. The air was tight.
Ansel poured me wine and gave me a smile that was far too warm.
"I'm glad you're here, Levi. This is more than just business between us. In fact, today marks the beginning of a deeper bond between our families.
I glanced sideways at my father. But he gave nothing away. Stone-faced. Casual.
Ansel kept going.
"My daughter, Amilie, was thrilled when she heard the arrangement was finalised."
My finger tilted around the wine glass.
"What arrangement?" I asked with a firm voice.
Ansel blinked, like he hadn't expected me not to know.
"Your engagement, of course."
TO BE CONTINUED!!!