Get out of my father’s house.” Julian opened his mouth, to scream, to rage, to fight.

But the cold, ironclad reality of the legal documents and the photograph held him paralyzed.

And then he did something I had not expected.

He looked at me.

Really looked at me, for the first time.

And I watched him see it: the same soulful, heavy-lidded eyes, the same jawline, the same stubborn set of the chin that had built the empire he had spent his whole life expecting to inherit.

He saw his father’s face, in mine.