The evening sun slipped through the tall glass windows of the mansion, scattering gold across the marble floors. The house stood quiet, except for the sharp sound of a door slamming upstairs.
Alden stormed into his room, his jaw tight with anger. Without a word, he tossed his bag onto the bed and began yanking off his clothes. He sat heavily on the couch, the silence of the room pressing in on him as he lit a cigarette.
Smoke curled lazily toward the ceiling while his thoughts burned hotter than the flame.
How could he? he thought bitterly. Who the hell does he think he is? I'll ruin him. I swear I will.
He barely noticed the door open until two familiar voices interrupted his thoughts.
His twin brothers, Jovan and Jovi, stepped in — both dressed casually, looking concerned.
"Are you okay, Alden?" Jovi asked softly.
Alden didn't respond. He simply took another long drag, the ember at the tip of his cigarette glowing faintly in the dim light.
"Come on, man," Jovan pressed. "Who did you fight with this time? You know Mom and Dad can't hear about this again. Just tell us what happened."
Alden exhaled sharply, eyes cold. "I don't care if they hear," he snapped, standing to face them. "Jeff betrayed me."
The twins exchanged puzzled glances.
"Jeff?" Jovi frowned. "You mean that Jeff? The one who's basically family?"
"Yes," Alden said, his voice rough. "We grew up together, but he finally showed who he really is."
Jovan stepped forward, trying to reason with him. "Alden, come on. Jeff's a good guy. Are you sure you're not overreacting?"
Alden's temper flared. "Just stop it, Jovan! Whose side are you on? His or mine? If you're here to defend him, then get the hell out of my room!"
The twins froze. Then, after a moment, Jovan's voice softened. "We're sorry. You're our brother. We just… want to understand."
That was enough to make Alden ease up, if only slightly. He sank back onto the couch and told them everything — every word, every betrayal that still echoed in his chest.
By the time he was done, both brothers were fuming. They cursed Jeff, calling him every name they could think of. Alden almost smiled; for the first time that evening, he felt seen.
When they finally left, he leaned back with a sigh. My brothers always have my back, he thought. That's enough for now.
A knock came at the door. One of the maids poked her head in timidly.
"Sir, dinner is ready. Madam said—"
"Get out," Alden cut in coldly. "Now."
The maid quickly disappeared. Alden knew most of them were gossipers, loyal to his mother, and he wasn't in the mood to be part of their nightly chatter.
He lit another cigarette, and before he realized it, the entire pack was gone. The room smelled faintly of smoke and whiskey — the two things that made him feel alive.
His mother often complained about his habits, but Alden never cared. His parents rarely visited anyway. They lived in Washington, D.C., with his sister, and only came around when there was something to gain.
"Lucky me," he muttered, lying back on his bed. The ceiling blurred above him as exhaustion crept in.
With the last bitter taste of smoke still lingering in his mouth, Alden closed his eyes and let the darkness take him.
⸻
THE WALTONS MANSION
Jeff arrived home with a heaviness he couldn't shake. The house was quiet, the kind of quiet that pressed against his thoughts. Alden's anger still echoed in his head, sharp and senseless. He knew Alden had a temper—he always did—but this time had gone too far. Somewhere deep down, Jeff feared that what broke between them might never be repaired.
A maid hurried to meet him at the door, taking his bag before slipping away silently. He didn't stop to speak; his feet carried him automatically toward his brother's room.
Carlos was lying on his bed when Jeff entered, the glow of the bedside lamp spilling over his calm face. He was twenty, quiet, and a little detached from the world, the kind of boy who preferred his own company to anyone else's. Jeff envied that sometimes.
Just as he turned to leave, Carlos's voice cut through the stillness. "Jeff?"
Jeff turned back, forcing a tired smile. "Yeah?"
Carlos sat up, his eyes narrowing. "Where are you coming from?"
"Alden's," Jeff replied.
The answer made Carlos's brows lift. "You drink again? Smoke again?" he asked, his tone a mix of worry and scolding. He knew Jeff's habits—he tolerated the drinking but despised the cigarettes.
Jeff sighed. "No," he said shortly.
Carlos studied him carefully. "You look… off."
"Nothing," Jeff muttered. "You should get some sleep. I'm heading to bed too."
Carlos opened his mouth to say something more, but Jeff was already backing out the door. "We'll talk tomorrow, okay? Just rest," he said, forcing calm into his voice.
Once he was alone in the hallway, Jeff's composure cracked. What could he possibly tell Carlos tomorrow? If he lied, his brother would sense it and call their parents, and he couldn't let that happen. Their parents had enough distance between them already; dragging them into this mess would only make things worse.
He replayed the argument again and again, trying to understand where it went wrong. Alden's fury had been so sudden, so raw. They were supposed to be brothers in everything but blood—two boys who had grown up side by side, shared dreams, secrets, even mistakes. Yet a single misunderstanding had burned that bond to ashes.
Jeff clenched his fists, his jaw tightening. If Alden wanted a war, then he'd get one. Jeff wasn't weak. He wasn't the type to bow his head and take the blame for something he didn't do. Still, the thought of revenge didn't bring satisfaction—only a hollow ache he couldn't explain.
He entered his room, the soft thud of the door closing behind him echoing through the empty house. "I'll make him regret this," he whispered under his breath. "If he wants to destroy me, I'll destroy him first."
The words hung in the air long after he stopped speaking.
Jeff sank onto his bed, his thoughts heavy and restless. Sleep refused to come, but exhaustion eventually dragged him under. And in the darkness that followed, the faces of the people he cared about most blurred into shadows—Alden's among them.
THE FOLLOWING MORNING - THE GATE'S MANSION
Alden woke late, the sky already leaning toward noon. He moved through the house with the easy, careless grace of someone who had never learned to be punctual. The bathroom was cool; he washed his face and let the water try to clear the fog from his head. After a few minutes, he drifted downstairs and found a maid hurrying between rooms.
"Where are Jovan and Jovi?" he asked, voice still thick with sleep.
"They've gone to school, sir," she answered quickly. "You should eat fast—get in the car. Madam said—"
Alden waved her off. He wasn't rushing to a lecture; he never rushed to class. He usually spent lectures in the garden, letting the sun warm his skin while his mind did the work. People always wondered how he passed exams with such ease. It was a question he enjoyed letting hang in the air—brilliant, they said. Handsome, too. He let them believe both.
THE WALTON MANSION
Down the hall, the house moved in a different rhythm. Jeff dressed quickly and headed for the dining room, where Carlos was already finishing breakfast. Carlos looked up as Jeff entered, the loyal, watchful brother he'd always been.
"Good morning, little bro," Jeff said.
"Good morning," Carlos replied. "Sleep well?"
"Just a bit," Jeff answered, trying to keep his voice light.
Carlos's eyes sharpened. "What are you going to do? Aren't you going to Alden's brother's birthday?"
Jeff scoffed. "Birthday? I don't have time for that."
Carlos set his fork down carefully. "You've been acting weird, Jeff. Tell me—did you fight with Alden?"
Jeff tried to pretend surprise. "How did you—"
"You're not fooling anyone," Carlos said. "Tell me. I might be able to help."
"You can't help me," Jeff said. "I just want to get back at him."
Carlos's face went still. "Get back at him? You mean—destroy him? Jeff, are you serious?"
Jeff's chuckle came out rough. He swallowed hard as the words rose. "He humiliated me."
Carlos listened while Jeff poured out the anger from the previous night. When Jeff finished, Carlos's expression softened into something like pity and warning. "Don't make this about someone else's reputation," he said quietly. "Don't drag our family into it. Don't fight in a way that will ruin things you can't repair."
Jeff felt a small, fierce relief at Carlos's words. "I won't—I'll be careful," he promised, though the promise sounded shakier than he felt.
They finished breakfast and moved toward the garage. Carlos insisted on taking his own car; Jeff let him. The drive to school was a compartmentalized silence, thoughts turning over what had been said and unsaid. When Jeff arrived he parked, stepping from his car to find Alden's luxury vehicle already in the lot nearby—silent proof that Alden, too, had chosen to show up on his terms.
Jeff squared his shoulders and walked toward class, the corridors already humming with students. Somewhere beyond the day's routine, the fault lines between friends had started to shift—and neither of them knew yet how far the cracks would run.