The words slipped out quietly—that cut deeper than any shout could have. Keaton's eyes, which looked like his mother's eyes, hardened into chips of ice.
"In respect for my mother's legacy."
Keaton said that each word was frighteningly cold.
"You can't possibly expect me to save your favorite son from jail."
George's hand froze mid-reach, suspended on the holographic display like a glitch.
Keaton didn't look away. His eyes had hardened into something sharp and merciless.
"I'll see that he rots there."
He added, his tone unwavering.
"And when he does, I hope you remember this moment. The moment you realized I won't clean up after you anymore."
George's expression tightened, but Keaton wasn't finished.
"Just as you let my mother rot in that prison-like mansion,"
He said softly in a low voice.
"Just as you sullied her memories with your deceit—your betrayal."
