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Privilege

Author: Eden
last update Huling Na-update: 2025-08-05 17:43:49

Years ago…

The email had come at 2:11 a.m., and Sylvester St. James didn’t sleep a second after reading it.

Hamilton & Blake LLP congratulates you on your successful application.

Your start date is listed below. Please come in business formal.

He sat on the stairwell of his dorm, gripping the phone in one hand and a borrowed tie in the other. He’d made it.

No family name. No private school network. Just a boy with nothing but grades, grit, and a worn-out laptop, and somehow, that had been enough.

He cried. Quietly at first. Then violently. The kind of cry you only give yourself once— relief, shame and joy all at once.

He bought a new suit the next day. Cheap but sharp. Got his hair trimmed. Walked into the marble lobby with his back straight and his shoulders tight like he’d seen real lawyers do. His ID badge had already been printed.

His first day started with smiles—until they asked:

“Who’s your father again?”

“Oh… StJames.”

“St. James, like—St. James’s Park?”

He had smiled. “Somet
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  • Too Late to Want Me; I chose your Billionaire Brother   Brotherly allowance!

    Brotherly Allowance— StJames brothers The email came through at 8:09 a.m.Cillian didn’t see it right away—he was on mindlessly scanning through his schedule for the day, while half listening to Kent discuss the new project at hand. Then, his phone buzzed again—urgent flag—he tapped into his inbox.Subject: Request for Leave — Personal IssuesFrom: Sylvester St. JamesTo: Cillian Dawson-St. JamesCillian blinked at the screen. He read the subject twice before opening it.“Dear Mr. Dawson-St. James,I am writing to request immediate personal leave effective today. I understand that the notice is short, but recent developments have necessitated time away from the company.Thank you for understanding.Regards,Sylvester St. James”Cillian stared at it, unimpressed. “Okay, dramatic.”Kent looked up from his muffin. “What?”“Syl’s sent me an official leave request. Through email. Like I’m HR.”Kent’s eyebrows lifted. “He’s really mad, huh?”Cillian clenched his jaw. “Maybe he just need

  • Too Late to Want Me; I chose your Billionaire Brother   I bet we will feel better

    He didn’t realize he was moving until he was outside.The glass doors of Hamilton & Blake hissed shut behind him, and the sun hit his face like a slap. For a moment, he just stood there, blinking at the brightness, feeling more hollow than victorious.He should’ve felt something else. Power, maybe. Closure.Instead, he felt like a child in an oversized suit, holding the pieces of something too cracked to repair.His phone was in his hand before he even decided to use it.He dialed. Before the second ring, Cillian’s voice came through.“Yeah?”Syl’s voice came low. “You went to Hamilton & Blake?”Cillian straightened. “I did.”“You threatened to shut them down.” “Yeah.”Syl closed his eyes. “Why would you do that?”“Because they treated you like trash.”“You think I needed saving?”“You deserved justice.”Syl’s voice tightened. “Then why not just ask me? Why did you have to dig behind my back? Those are things we do to other people. We don’t do it to each other. I trust you, why don’t

  • Too Late to Want Me; I chose your Billionaire Brother   Privilege

    Years ago…The email had come at 2:11 a.m., and Sylvester St. James didn’t sleep a second after reading it.Hamilton & Blake LLP congratulates you on your successful application.Your start date is listed below. Please come in business formal.He sat on the stairwell of his dorm, gripping the phone in one hand and a borrowed tie in the other. He’d made it.No family name. No private school network. Just a boy with nothing but grades, grit, and a worn-out laptop, and somehow, that had been enough.He cried. Quietly at first. Then violently. The kind of cry you only give yourself once— relief, shame and joy all at once.He bought a new suit the next day. Cheap but sharp. Got his hair trimmed. Walked into the marble lobby with his back straight and his shoulders tight like he’d seen real lawyers do. His ID badge had already been printed.His first day started with smiles—until they asked:“Who’s your father again?”“Oh… StJames.”“St. James, like—St. James’s Park?”He had smiled. “Somet

  • Too Late to Want Me; I chose your Billionaire Brother   Syl

    Cillian was different now.Not obvious to most. He still wore black like it was stitched into his DNA, still moved through rooms with that same quiet confidence that made people straighten up when he passed. But to Sylvester, the shift was unmistakable.It was in the way he leaned back on the couch—not guarding anything, just… breathing. It was in how he looked at Benita when she wasn’t paying attention. Like he finally believed he wasn’t about to lose her.Syl watched from the far end of the living room, a glass in hand, not really drinking.The press conference had aired just that morning. Benita’s voice still echoed through the house like it had carved out something new inside the walls. Even Kent had been quiet afterward. Respectfully stunned.Now Benita and Lola were in the kitchen, voices low but warm. Cillian had retreated to the study after a phone call. Kent was upstairs doing something that sounded like music and violence at once.And Syl?He was just there.Like always.A f

  • Too Late to Want Me; I chose your Billionaire Brother   Now I do

    Cillian had never understood how she did it.How Benita walked into a room and bent the air to her will. How she carried the fire of a revolution and still made it look like grace. How she didn’t tremble even when the ground did.He stood backstage, out of sight, arms folded as the press briefing filled. Journalists were already seated, murmuring into microphones, cameras shifting focus. She’d requested it herself—no filters, no teleprompter, no media handlers. Just a mic, a podium, and a truth nobody could dress up.Kent stood beside him, silent for once. His tie was crooked, his shirt rumpled, but his gaze was steady.“Are we about to watch her burn everything down?” Kent asked.“No,” Cillian said. “We’re about to watch her light the path.”Benita stepped into view like she had nothing to lose.She wore no power suit, no jewelry. A dark navy dress. Hair pulled back. A face that didn’t flinch.She approached the podium as the room quieted, scanning the sea of reporters with the same

  • Too Late to Want Me; I chose your Billionaire Brother   Even if it costs me

    The sun slanted through the windows like it belonged here.Benita blinked up at the high ceiling, the lazy shadows on the walls, the silk-soft weight of the duvet. For a second, she couldn’t tell where she was.Then she heard it.A distant clang. A soft curse. A pan being set down harder than necessary.Cillian.The night before came back in pieces—Shanon’s voice, raw and cracked, asking for forgiveness he didn’t deserve. The look on Cillian’s face when she found him again. The kiss they shared—not desperate this time, not some apology for what they weren’t, but quiet and careful and true.She sat up, tucking her legs beneath her, rubbing a hand across her face. Her coat was draped neatly over a velvet chair. Her heels were by the bed. Her phone was plugged in.And she was still wearing his hoodie.Benita padded down the hall, past shelves lined with books she hadn’t seen before—Kent’s, most likely. There was a faint hum of jazz coming from the kitchen. The smell of eggs. Butter. Coff

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