Perdita stood alone in the small bathroom, trying to compose herself as she brushed tears away from her cheeks. The knot of frustration in her chest twisted tighter. Orion’s loathing for her had begun long before she’d even existed, and no amount of therapy over the years had succeeded in numbing the sting of his relentless disdain. Each barb he threw her way reopened that dull ache in her heart, and yet, it always triggered the same result—she lashed out. Bitterness coated her words, anger sharpened her tone, and she hated the obnoxious version of herself that emerged so predictably in his presence.

Their strained relationship had not only burdened her but added friction to their entire family. Her father had clashed with Orion repeatedly over the years, heated confrontations flaring between them as Orion treated Seraphina and herself with dismissive cruelty. However, none of those arguments ever seemed to leave an impression on her older brother. The true blow had come when their grandfather passed, leaving behind a stipulation in his will. Their inheritances were placed in trust, and both Perdita and Orion would only receive monthly payments contingent on one condition: they had to share a meal together every single month for ten years. It was her grandfather’s misguided attempt at forcing reconciliation. After enduring five excruciating years of this arrangement, there were still five more to endure. On her part, she didn’t even need the inheritance; she could walk away tomorrow. But Orion relied on the money, so she was trapped in this monthly torment for his sake whether she liked it or not.

She sighed deeply, the memory of sitting across from Orion at one of their recent mandated dinners still fresh and abrasive. That had only been two weeks ago, and now she was forced to endure yet another meal without so much as a chance to steel herself for the emotional battle to come. Wiping her damp cheeks, she summoned the strength she knew she’d need and turned toward the bathroom door. She pushed herself to rejoin the battlefield—otherwise known as their family dining table.

As she stepped out of the ensuite bathroom connected to what had once been her childhood bedroom, she froze mid-step. Caspian Harrington stood near the doorway, arms crossed over his chest, his broad frame blocking her path completely. His stance and gaze were rigid and unyielding, thick tension immediately filling what had once been her only sanctuary.

“Were you crying?” he demanded, his narrowed eyes scanning her face without a hint of gentleness.

“No,” she replied curtly, lifting her chin with defiance. “Why would I be crying? Now, can you move?”

His smirk was humorless. “You’re the last person in the world right now who can make demands of me. Do you have any idea what you cost me?”

“Let me guess,” she retorted, her voice acid-tinged. “Your precious deal didn’t close?”

“I lost a fifty-million-dollar contract. All because of you.”

Smiling sharp and unapologetic, she leaned against the doorframe. “I saved you from a lifelong headache. Imagine spending years tied to that woman—the sound of her voice alone would drive anyone mad.”

“She was critical to my business arrangement,” Caspian countered, his voice hardening. “You sabotaged something that mattered.”

“Critical?” Perdita raised a brow, taunting him. “So you admit you can’t land a business deal on merit and skill alone? Guess you’re reliant on manipulating your way in through the bedroom. Nice to know where you stand as a businessman.”

His jaw tightened, and fury bled into his tone. “She told her father I beat women. That I broke my ex-girlfriend’s arm and abandoned her at an abortion clinic. Do you have any idea what that made me look like?”

Tilting her head, Perdita couldn’t help the smugness that laced her words. “In my defense, I came up with that story in under thirty seconds. Clearly, I’m more creative than I thought.”

Her demeanor faltered as she suddenly heard the sharp, unmistakable sound of her bedroom door locking. She turned her head toward the noise but refused to let the unease gripping her show on her face.

“What are you doing?” Her voice was steady, though her pulse had quickened.

“You owe me,” Caspian said without any attempt to soften his words.

“Is that so?” she shot back, crossing her arms tightly over her chest. “Had no idea you’d stoop to intimidation tactics to settle the score.”

He moved a fraction closer, his confidence towering over the subtle anxiety she was trying to suppress. “You don’t look intimidated.”

“Why would I be?” She smirked, refusing to yield even an inch. “My dad’s right downstairs. All it takes is one scream, and he’d come running. And we both know I’m his favorite.”

The insult rolled off him unfazed. Instead, his lip twisted cruelly. “Maybe your dad should’ve disciplined you better. You’re a disaster.”

“Says the man responsible for rigging my driver’s test when I was sixteen,” she shot back without skipping a beat. “Still as mature as ever, I see.”

An amused glint sparked in his eye. “That was Orion’s idea. He called in a favor.”

Shaking her head, she bit out, “Unbelievable. Seriously, though—does Orion have dirt on you? Some incriminating secret he’s blackmailing you with? Because I fail to see why you’re always his lapdog.”

Caspian chuckled dryly. “No secrets. Just loyalty. We were kids when we made a pact—always have each other’s backs.” He paused, raising a brow. “So, is Margot really gay?”

“That’s none of your business.”

“Come on, Perdita, between you and me. You can trust me—I won’t say a word.”

She scoffed, incredulously shaking her head. “And why exactly would I trust you?”

Holding up two fingers in a mock scout’s honor pose, he grinned. “I swear. Completely confidential.”

“You never were a scout,” she muttered, rolling her eyes.

“And neither were you. So?” He started inching toward her, his steps slow and deliberate. “Spill it.”

Her resolve wavered slightly, but she relented with reluctance. “Fine. Yes, she’s gay. But it’s not like she just figured it out recently—it’s been years. She knew even before Dad married Mom, but Margot felt ashamed of it. Mom saw right through her, though. There was this one time Margot couldn’t stop staring at Orion’s teacher during a parent-teacher conference—Mom confronted her about it after. Eventually, Mom convinced her to embrace who she truly was.”

“And she waited this long to say anything?” Caspian asked with mild disbelief.

“She didn’t want to draw attention to herself until Orion graduated,” Perdita explained. “She thought he’d be embarrassed if everyone started gossiping about it.”

“He wouldn’t care,” Caspian countered matter-of-factly.

Perdita laughed bitterly. “Clearly, you don’t know him as well as you think. Orion loves to judge. Trust me, the criticism he reserves for Mom and me is nothing compared to what he’s capable of. You’ve heard the polite ninety-percent version of him—the one reserved for everyone else. It’s the other ten percent you should worry about.”

Her expression darkened as she added, “Once, Mom and I were at Margot’s house, and she still had one of those old tape voice machines. Orion left a voicemail message while we were there. Whatever he said? It made my mother cry.”