26

26

Killian Morgan’s smile died the second he saw him.

“What are you doing here?” Killian asked, his hand still on the door handle, blocking the entrance. He didn’t move. He was still standing by the door.

Roi Morgan laughed. It was the same laugh he’d had since they were kids — loud, careless, like nothing mattered.

He didn’t wait for an invitation. He came into the house without permission, pushing past Killian’s shoulder, dropping his duffel bag on the marble floor with a thud.

“Nice to see you too, little brother,” Roi said, looking around the penthouse, whistling. “Damn. You upgraded. Last time I was here you were sleeping on a mattress on the floor talking about ‘minimalism.’ Now look at you. A huge penthous, You’ve really made it.”

Killian’s jaw tightened. “I asked what you’re doing here, Roi.”

Roi turned, grinning, and flopped onto the couch — the same couch Imani had dragged Killian onto last night. He picked up the full bowl of salty soup Dr. Evans left behind and sniffed it.

“Ugh, what is this? Did someone die in here?” He put it back down, disgusted.

Killan didn’t back down, he was glaring at him. “I asked you a question,” He fired.

“Our father told me to monitor your movements,” Roi said casually, like he was talking about the weather.

Killian went cold, his eyes narrowed.

“What? Did I do anything wrong?I—”

“Yeah,” Roi said, kicking his feet up on Killian’s coffee table. “He said you’ve been... distracted, not following his plan. Oh…I think he wants you to get Imani but seems like you have been doing the opposite? He wanted me to keep an eye on you. You know how Dad is.” He answered.

Killian stepped forward, his fist tightened and his teeth clenched together, “Tell Dad I can handle it myself and he doesn’t need you to tail me. And it would be nice if you leave my house. Now.”

He was still standing by the door, holding it open, a clear sign — get out.

Roi looked at him, sprang up and went to him then he slapped him by the shoulder — hard, brotherly, but with an edge that made Killian flinch.

“Relax, man. I’m just joking,” Roi said, laughing again. “Dad didn’t send me. Not exactly. I told him I’d come check on you. I’m your big brother. I care.”

Killian didn’t laugh. It wasn’t funny.

“Then why are you here?”

Roi’s smile faded a little. He looked away, suddenly interested in the ceiling. “I need a place to crash. Just for a little while. Till I find a new place.” He told him.

“No,” Killian said instantly. “Absolutely not.”

“Come on, Killian—”

“I said no, Roi. We are not on those terms. Find a hotel. Find Dad’s house. Don’t find mine.” He instructed sternly.

Roi rolled his eyes and stood closer to Killan, even though the age gap between them was only by a year, Roi was taller than Killian by an inch, broader.

When he came close to Killian, he could smell cigarettes on his jacket.

“Okay, okay,” Roi whispered, but his smile was back, and it was cruel this time. “If you say no, I’ll have to tell Father what you’ve been doing with Imani instead of following our plans.”

Killian froze.

Roi leaned in. “Oh…You think I don’t know? You’re in love with her, Killian. She was supposed to be a pawn in your game but Instead you’re... what? Letting her make you soup?” Roi mentioned.

Killan tried to defend himself, “I didn’t—”

“Don’t lie to me,” Roi hissed. “I saw her leaving this morning, I have been standing at the corner of your house…”

Killian’s hands balled into fists. “You were watching my building?”

“I’m watching you, brother,” Roi said, patting his cheek — hard. “So, can I stay or should I call Father right now and tell him his perfect little son has gone soft for a single mother?”

Silence. Killan swallows the gulp on his throat.

The penthouse was so quiet you could hear the honking of cars three streets away.

Killian surrendered, his tensed shoulders dropped.

“One week,” he said quietly, looking away. “You can stay one week. Then you’re gone.”

Roi grinned, victorious. He picked up his duffel bag again and started walking around, making himself at home, Then he saw it.

On the coffee table was their mother’s frame. The one Imani had placed so carefully last night. A younger woman with Killian’s eyes, smiling in a garden.

Roi stopped, He laughed. A short, ugly laugh and pick the frame.

“Do you even have the right to keep her pictures?” he said, holding it up to the light. “Tsk... again, you’d blame it on guilt, isn’t it?” He mentioned.

Killian’s head snapped up. “Put it down.”

Roi turned the frame over in his hands. “You know, it’s funny. You keep her picture like you miss her. But we both know if you had stayed in your—”

“I said put it down, Roi!” Killian shouted, his voice cracking.

Roi looked at his little brother — pale, still sweaty from fever, shaking with anger — and smiled. He knew exactly how to hurt his feelings. He always had.

He placed the frame back down, but facing the direction of Killan.

“There,” Roi said softly, in a voice obviously meant to hurt. “That’s even better…You should look at her more and let that guilt sink.”

He walked past Killian toward the guest room, whistling, “What was the excuse again..? Oh yeah…you got drunk after and had a one night stand with a stranger, Do you even remember?” He added with a weird chuckles, he walked way afterwards.

Killian stood frozen in the doorway, staring at his mother’s photo facing him now. His worries came rushing over.