My brother, Lucas Bennett, had spent weeks talking about this party as if it were a strategic operation rather than a celebration. He had dropped numbers casually into conversation—six figures here, “close to seven” there—always with the same underlying message: he belonged now, or at least he was determined to convince people that he did. The party wasn’t for Theo. Not really. It was a stage, and Lucas intended to perform.
At the center of that performance was one name: Sebastian Rourke.
Even before he arrived, his presence hovered over everything like a kind of gravitational force. Guests mentioned him in lowered voices, speculating about his portfolio, his recent acquisitions, the rumors that he was looking to expand into new sectors. Lucas had built the entire event around the expectation that Sebastian would attend, and more importantly, that he might be impressed.
That was why the desserts occupied an entire glass-walled pavilion.
Why the fireworks were scheduled with military precision for sunset.
Why even the party favors—small navy boxes tied with silver ribbon—contained items that cost more than most people would spend on a gift.
And, as I would soon learn, that was also why my father chose that exact afternoon to corner me.
