Daniel pushed open the restaurant door, his face expressionless. The place reeked of bourgeois elegance—immaculate tablecloths, dim lighting, staff so attentive it bordered on the absurd. A serious-looking waiter recognized him immediately, gave a slight bow, and pointed him to the table where his father was waiting.
He found him sitting upright, stiff as a rod, in his eternal charcoal gray tailored suit. He was absentmindedly reading the menu, as if he hadn't already ordered the same dish three times a week for years.
Daniel pulled out the chair without a word and sat down, arms crossed.
— "Why'd you ask me here? And more importantly, why didn't you invite your lapdog too?" he asked dryly.
— "I needed to speak with you alone," his father replied without looking up. "The kind of conversation we're about to have isn't... suitable for your little brother."
Daniel raised an eyebrow.
— "Alright, if you say so. So what do you want this time?"
His father closed the menu slowly, placed it on the table, then finally locked eyes with Daniel. A cold, calculating stare. The look of a man used to negotiating, owning, winning.
— "I want you to take over my businesses."
He didn't get the chance to say more. Daniel cut him off, his voice as sharp as a blade:
— "No thanks."
The silence that followed was heavy. Charged.
His father, unbothered, resumed speaking with icy composure:
— "You could at least listen before refusing. What I'm offering isn't a favor. It's responsibility. Power."
Daniel tilted his head, mildly amused.
— "You seriously think I want to manage your pretty little façade of an empire? Your white-collar lies, your shady investments, your dinners with guys who sniff more than they eat?"
A thin smile appeared on his father's lips.
— "You're my son. Whether you like it or not, you carry my name. You were raised for this."
— "No," Daniel corrected, eyes locked on his. "I was raised to obey you. Not to succeed you."
There was silence again. This time, it was the father who paused, weighing the hostility, but also the icy fire in his son's gaze.
— "You can't run from who you are, Daniel."
— "I'm not running," he replied, standing up. "I'm just avoiding becoming as hollow as you."
— "I'm not going to obey you, and I'm sure as hell not going to succeed you," Daniel said firmly, eyes locked on his father's. "Just hand your empire over to your little protégé. He dreams of it, doesn't he?"
A brief silence. Then his father shook his head slightly, almost regretfully.
— "You know he doesn't have what it takes."
— "You could at least listen to what I have to say," his father replied, his jaw tightening slightly.
— "Listen to what? The same crap as always? That I was born for this, that I'm your rightful heir, that Ben's too soft, too naïve? Save your breath. We both know your speech by heart."
His father took a slow breath, trying to stay composed.
— "You're brilliant, Daniel. Far more than I ever was at your age. You understand numbers, strategy, people. You could grow this empire. Give it meaning. You're the only one who..."
— "Give it all to Ben," Daniel cut in, his tone icy. "He worships you. He'd do anything to make you proud. Me? I don't give a damn."
A faint twitch crossed his father's face.
— "You know as well as I do that he doesn't have the potential. He's kind, sure. Loyal, maybe. But he doesn't have what you have. That clarity. That... ability to see through people. He wouldn't last a day in this world."
Daniel's gaze bore into his father's, cold as stone.
— "You think that's a compliment? That it flatters me? He works himself to the bone trying to be worthy of you. Exhausts himself chasing your standards. And you silently look down on him while dreaming of molding me into your shadow. It's disgusting."
— "I'm surprised," his father murmured. "Didn't think you had something that... protective to say about your brother."
Daniel gave a brief, hard smile.
— "I don't hate him. I hate you."
Another silence. This one carried weight. It clung to the walls of the restaurant, between untouched silverware and dishes left unserved.
— "You have no idea what I've sacrificed for you," his father whispered. "You judge me, but you have no idea what it means to carry it all. To build it all from nothing. This world has no place for the weak."
— "So what?" Daniel snapped. "You thought: 'I'll make a weapon.' 'I'll take this kid and forge him in scorn, indifference, and impossible expectations.' You didn't want a son. You wanted a legacy."
His father's face finally twitched. A tiny tremor in his fingers. He lifted his chin.
— "You have to take over, Daniel. You're gifted, that's a fact. He's just trying to be. And you're graduating soon. University is next. It's time you seriously thought about your future."
— "My future is never becoming you."
Daniel stood slowly, unhurried, as if the decision had been made long ago. He pushed his chair back in with cold precision.
— "I'm done with this conversation."
— "Wait," his father said, his voice suddenly deeper. "I don't have much time left to live."
A pause. A breath.
Daniel stopped. But he didn't turn around. He just stood there, back to him. Then he walked away, silent.
He stepped out of the restaurant like a shadow. Without a glance. Without a word.
And his father, now alone at that empty table, lowered his eyes to his untouched plate. His hands trembled slightly. He murmured, almost to himself:
— "Is that child even human? Not even a glance… not even a flicker."
The apartment reeked of cheap alcohol and regret. Daniel walked in without knocking. The girl was already there, sitting on the bed, a half-smoked cigarette between her fingers. She didn't say a word. She knew why he had come.
He didn't waste time. He kissed her harshly, shoved her against the wall, then onto the bed. No words, no tenderness. Just mechanical, aggressive movements, like he was trying to crush some invisible pain — in her, in himself.
The sex was brutal, fast, almost animalistic. A release.
When it was over, Daniel lay there for a moment, breathing hard, eyes fixed on the ceiling. His heart was still racing, but his mind was elsewhere. His father's words echoed: You're a genius. The only one worthy of succeeding me.
And what if he was right? What if he was nothing more than a cold monster, incapable of feeling anything but contempt?
Beside him, the girl had curled up, arms wrapped around her knees. Silent tears ran down her cheeks.
— "You're always like this," she whispered. "You come, you fuck me like I'm nothing… and you don't even say a word."
Daniel got up, grabbed his clothes without looking at her. He got dressed slowly, deliberately, like putting on armor. Then he pulled out a few bills and tossed them on the bed.
— "You're my sex slave," he said coldly. "You should be glad I even pay you."
And he walked out without looking back.
---