Chapter 1

ASHER

I’m in no rush to get dressed, knowing full well I’ll be late. They can’t stand it, my chronic tardiness. I could be punctual if I wanted to, but I choose not to be.

I live life at my own speed, unapologetically. I put on the right clothes, buttoning up my blue shirt—my go-to color—and tuck it into my pants, not wanting to ruffle their feathers too much.

I glance at my Rolex, a gift from Zach on my eighteenth birthday that took my breath away. I’d always wanted one but was always told no. And yet, there it was, nestled in a wooden box on my birthday.

I’m fifteen minutes late; it’s high time I head downstairs to their office where I know they’ll be sitting with deep frowns. I can already see it—their disappointment etched across their faces.

Grinning at my reflection in the bedroom mirror, I give myself a salute before exiting the apartment. I ride the elevator down to the lower level, exchanging greetings with the staff.

I whistle at the ladies behind the desk, then make my way down the narrow hallway that leads to two offices. One belongs to Tyler, the other to Zach.

Atty has already claimed Tyler’s office, carving out his own space, while Zach’s office awaits my invasion. But it doesn’t feel like the right time—not yet.

Without knocking, I open the door to find my three dads engaged in conversation at the small table they use for meals, while Atty perches on the edge of the desk, eyeing the clock.

My dads don’t even glance my way, but Atty fixes me with a frown and scolds me for my tardiness.

“You were supposed to be here twenty minutes ago, Ash. It’s not that hard. You live upstairs,” he points out.

He’s also dressed in black pants and a blue shirt. His hair is a mess, just like mine. But while I wear a smirk like our dad, like Zach, he wears a frown like our other dad, like Callum.

It’s a constant thing with him. The weight of maturity is taking its toll on him. I swear he has worry lines where they shouldn’t be.

“I know what time it is, bro, but it’s nice to see you too,” I reply.

“I have things to do, Ash, meetings that will now run late because of you. Just… Fuck, Ash. Please just try to be on time,” he complains.

“Your brother is right,” Tyler interjects, his face as impassive as ever. “I had my own things to do; this was the only time that worked for me.”

I shrug, slumping next to Callum, who just stares at me. His frown deepens, his silent words filled with distaste.

“Have you decided to shadow me now that you’ve finished school?” Zach asks, not even looking my way.

He’s irritated, but he won’t say anything, not until I’ve really gotten under his skin. Then the real fun begins—the scolding, the yelling. The disappointment put into words. Oh, I can’t wait.

I love it when we argue. I shouldn’t; it upsets my mom, but it’s thrilling in the moment, you know?

“What’s in it for me? What will I gain from this?” I ask.

“A career,” Zach replies.

“Stability, income,” Tyler adds, fiddling with his pants.

“Drive, ambition. Come on, Ash, it’s time for you to take some responsibility,” Callum chimes in, as if I’m an idiot.

I scoff and glance between them all, then at Atty. The look on his face almost makes me reconsider; his expression of utter confusion and despair hits me hard.

But I’m not him, and I’m not ready for this. Not today, not this month.

“I won’t be shadowing you, not yet. I’m not ready.”

“What do you mean you’re not ready?” Callum snorts. “Atticus has been doing this since he turned fourteen. You’ve finished school now, boy; you need direction in your life.”

“I have direction, Dad.”

“I agree with Cal. It’s time you buckled down and learned the shit you need to learn,” Zach says, taking a sip of his coffee.

I gaze at him, taking in our shared features. The same eyes, nose, and jawline. The light dusting of facial hair we both maintain. The dimples that have always been our secret weapon.

Atty and I are mirror images of him, and it’s uncanny. I’m constantly being mistaken for him, despite the age difference.

I can’t fathom how they expect him to look as youthful as me when he’s clearly aged.

“Dad, I have plenty of time before I need to worry about that. You’re not going to keel over tomorrow. Let me enjoy my life. I’m sure you did the same at my age,” I say, trying to keep my tone light.

“Actually, your grandfather and I started this business right out of high school. We had our fun on the weekends, after we’d put in the work during the week. We worked hard, Asher. You should consider doing the same if you want to retire early.”

“I’m good, Dad. I’m not ready to live in your shadow,” I reply, a hint of defiance in my voice. Who would want to live in his shadow after spending most of my school life doing just that? It’s time for me to be Asher, not just his son.

Zach scoffs, a sound I recognize because it’s the same one I make when someone says something that really pisses me off. He absorbs my words, his gaze heavy with frustration.

He takes a moment to process my statement. All three of them scrutinize me, searching for any sign of weakness. But I don’t give them anything. I’m not backing down from this.

“Asher, my offer won’t be on the table forever. I’m not going to wait indefinitely for you to come down from your high horse,” Zach says, his tone laced with irritation.

“Dad, I’m not asking you to wait forever. I just finished school. I want a few years to figure out who I am, to explore what I want for my future. I need time. Can’t you understand that?” I plead.

They all sigh in unison. Time is a concept my family seems to misunderstand.

Mom has so much time she’s practically a clone of Atty. My dads complain about not having enough hours in the day to balance work, family, and leisure.

That’s exactly why I’m not ready to take over the family businesses. And my sisters—they struggle with time management too.

They take on more than they can handle when there’s no need. My parents have so much money they don’t know what to do with it. My siblings and I are in the same boat.

We have access to our parents’ wealth, enough that I could splurge every day and still have a hefty savings account.

“Just give me time,” I say, standing up to leave this disaster of a meeting. No one tries to stop me, but I can practically taste their disappointment and anger.

Without looking back, I walk out, closing the door behind me. I rest my forehead against the door, listening to their conversation about me. The door isn’t soundproof, and I hear every word.

“He’s been spoiled too much. He has no sense of responsibility,” Callum grumbles.

“I agree. Violet has coddled him so much he thinks we’re his personal ATMs,” Zach adds, probably nodding in agreement while stroking his chin thoughtfully. His next words hit me hard, stirring up emotions I’d rather not feel. “Maybe we should cut him off, let him blow through his money and realize it won’t magically replenish itself.”

“You know how Vi will react to that,” Tyler interjects, his tone neutral, just as I expected.

“I agree. Asher thinks he doesn’t need to work. You’ve always provided for us. He’s privileged and entitled. I can’t run these businesses by myself. You need to do something to help me,” Atty says.

His words feel like a punch to the gut. My own twin, my brother, turning against me. How could he?