Four

Cain

I’ve never been a patient person. In my world, if you want something, you just take it—you buy it, you demand it, or you use the family name to flatten whatever is standing in your way. But with Eli, I knew that wouldn't work. He was like a stray cat: one wrong move, one flash of the Calloway teeth, and he’d be gone, spitting and scratching, never to be seen again.

So, I spent the week being everywhere and nowhere at once.

I found out his schedule without asking. I knew when he hit the gym, which corner of the dining hall he preferred, and exactly which floor of the library had the "good" outlets for his laptop. I didn't pounce, I just... existed in his vicinity. I’d offer a nod in the hallway or hold a door open without making a big deal out of it. I was wearing him down by being the most reasonable person he’d ever met.

By Thursday, the prickle in his shoulders when I walked in had started to fade. He was expecting me now.

That evening, I found him in The Inkwell, a tiny, hole-in-the-wall café that smelled like burnt beans and old paper. It was the kind of place Cole would hate—too cramped, too loud, and the chairs were definitely not designer.

I bought two black coffees and walked over to his table. I didn't ask, I just sat down and pushed one toward him.

"You again," Eli said, but he didn't look annoyed, he just looked tired. His glasses were sliding down his nose, and his hair was a total mess like he’d been running his hands through it for hours.

"Me again," I said softly. "You look like you’re about to fight that textbook and lose, tbh Eli."

He let out a short, dry laugh and took a sip of the coffee. He paused, looking at the cup. "How did you know I take it black?"

"I pay attention," I said, and for once, it wasn't a line. I was paying more attention to him than I was to my own bank account lately, honestly.

He leaned back, looking at me with those sharp, perceptive eyes. "Why are you doing this, Cain? Seriously. You’re a legacy kid. You should be at some private club drinking champagne or whatever it is you people do. Why are you sitting in a basement café with a scholarship student?"

I could have given him a dozen lies, or played the "I’m just a normal guy" card. But something about the way the dim light hit the planes of his face made the truth slip out before I could stop it.

"Because it’s exhausting," I said, the words feeling heavy on my tongue. "Being a Calloway isn't just about the money, it’s about the performance. Every time I walk out of my house, I have to be a specific version of myself: the perfect heir, the brilliant student, the guy who never fails. People don't look at me, Eli, they look at the name on the building."

Eli went quiet. He didn't mock me or tell me to cry into my silk pillows, he just watched me. "So you’re saying you’re a professional actor?"

"Basically," I admitted, a bitter edge creeping into my voice. "My father doesn't want a son, he wants a brand. Cole and I... we’re just two halves of a legacy he’s been building since before we were born. If I’m not perfect, I’m nothing."

"Must be nice to have 'nothing' be a multi-million dollar safety net," Eli countered, but there was no heat in it. He drummed his fingers on the table. "I get it, though—the performance part. I’m the 'success story' back home, the one who made it out. I can’t fail because if I do, I’m just another statistic from my neighborhood. I have to be the smartest person in the room just to prove I deserve to sit in the chair."

"The wrong chair?" I teased.

He smiled then—a real, small smile that reached his eyes. "Yeah. Especially that one."

We talked for two hours. We stopped being Cain Calloway and Eli, the scholarship kid. We were just two people who felt like the world was waiting for us to trip. I told him things I hadn’t even told Cole—about the pressure that felt like a physical weight on my chest every morning. He told me about his mom, about the three jobs she worked, and the total guilt he felt being here while she was there.

It was real. It was too real. I’d started this for a bet, but sitting there, watching the way his mouth moved when he got passionate about a topic, I forgot about the scoreboard. I forgot about Cole.

Across the street, through the steamed-up window of the café, a figure moved past. I caught a glimpse of a dark coat and a familiar gait—Cole. He slowed down, his eyes locking onto us through the glass. He stood there for maybe three seconds, watching the way Eli was leaning toward me, the way I was looking at him. Then, he just kept walking.

He didn't come in. He didn't interrupt. He just vanished into the dark.

A chill went down my spine that had nothing to do with the drafty door, lol.

"You okay?" Eli asked, noticing how quiet I’d gone.

"Yeah," I lied, forcing a smile back onto my face. "Just thinking about how much I’m going to hate the walk back to the dorms in this cold."

When we finally left, the air was freezing. We stood on the sidewalk for a second, and the silence between us was different than it had been before. It wasn't tense or awkward, it was heavy with everything we’d just said.

"Thanks for the coffee, Cain," Eli said, shoving his hands into his hoodie pockets. He looked at his shoes, then back at me. "I... I didn't think you were like this."

"Like what?"

"Human," he said softly.

He turned and started walking toward the dorms before I could say anything else. I stood there for a long time, just watching him go, and my heart was doing something stupid that I didn't have a name for.

I walked back to the townhouse, my mind racing. I’d made progress, like, real progress. I was winning. So why did I feel like I’d just stepped into a trap?

When I walked through the front door, the house was dark except for one lamp in the living room. Cole was sitting in his usual armchair, staring at a book he wasn't reading. The silence was thick and suffocating—the kind of silence that usually preceded a storm.

"You're back late," Cole said without looking up. His voice was like ice.

"Met a friend for coffee," I said, trying to keep my tone casual. I went to the bar to pour myself a drink, and my hands felt unnaturally steady.

Cole didn't say anything else. He didn't ask how it went. He didn't mention that he’d seen us. He just sat there in that oppressive silence, radiating a cold, dark energy that made the hair on my neck stand up.

I knew exactly what that silence meant. He’d seen the way Eli looked at me and he’d seen the connection. And he realized that his plan—the silence, the physical tension, the looming—wasn't enough. Not anymore.

I looked at my brother, and for the first time in my life, I didn't see my twin, I saw an enemy.

"He's not just a bet, Cole," I said, the words slipping out before I could think.

Cole finally looked up. His eyes were void of any emotion, just two dark pits that seemed to swallow the light in the room. "I know."

He got up and walked past me toward the stairs. He didn't brush against me, but I felt the coldness of him as he went by. He didn't say another word, but I understood perfectly.

The gloves were off.

I stayed in the living room, staring at the empty hallway. I had earned Eli’s trust, I had gotten inside his head, and I was the one he’d shared his secrets with.

But as I thought about the look on Cole’s face, I realized I wasn't the only one who was obsessed. Cole wasn't going to play the long game anymore, he was going to burn the whole board down just to make sure I didn't win.

I finished my drink in one gulp, but the burn of the whiskey did nothing to settle the fire in my gut.

I had won the battle. Eli was totally thinking about me tonight, I could feel it. He was laying in his bed, wondering who Cain Calloway really was.

But the war was just beginning. And looking at the empty chair where my brother had just been sitting, I knew one thing for certain.

Neither of us was walking away from this with our souls intact.

I went upstairs, my footsteps heavy. I checked my phone one last time and there still wasn't any text from Eli, obviously. But the memory of his laugh stayed with me, a sharp contrast to the coldness of this house.

"I've got him," I whispered to the dark hallway.

But deep down, I wondered if I was the one being caught, lol.

I closed my bedroom door and locked it. For the first time in years, I didn't feel like a Calloway, I felt like a man who was about to lose everything he never knew he wanted.

And the worst part? I was still going to try and win.

I closed my eyes, but I didn't fall asleep for a long time. Every time I did, I just saw those sharp, dark eyes looking up at me from the head of the table.

"Prove it," he’d said.

"Watch me," I whispered into the empty room.

The game was on. And God help anyone who got in the way, especially Eli, and especially my brother. Because when it came to something this perfect, I didn't know how to share, and I definitely didn't know how to lose.

I could feel the obsession starting to take root, deep and ugly and beautiful all at once. It wasnt just a bet, it was a war. And I had every intention of being the last man standing.

Even if it meant breaking my brother.

Even if it meant breaking myself.

Even if it meant breaking the only person who had actually looked at me and seen something other than a bank account.

Yeah. This was going to be fun.