Chapter 2: Fractured Bonds

Ava arrived at the restaurant ten minutes early. She always did. Punctuality wasn't just a habit—it was a necessity, a way to control the uncontrollable. The dim lighting of the high-end steakhouse cast warm shadows over the sleek mahogany tables, and the quiet murmur of hushed conversations blended seamlessly with the soft clinking of silverware. It was a place designed for discretion, for whispered deals and unspoken truths. She had chosen it for that reason.

Liam, however, was late. As expected.

She signaled the waiter for a glass of red wine, inhaling deeply as she swirled it in her glass. Her younger brother, for all his charm and effortless charisma, lacked her discipline. It was the one thing about him that annoyed her the most. He floated through life with a casual ease that grated against her carefully constructed world of control.

The sound of a chair scraping against the floor pulled her attention. "Ava," Liam greeted, sliding into the seat across from her. His tousled blond hair and sculpted features belonged on magazine covers—not in boardrooms or courtrooms, where their father had envisioned him. But Liam had never been interested in following the Sinclair legacy. Instead, he had carved his own path as one of the most sought-after models in the industry.

She took a slow sip of her wine before answering. "You're late."

He smirked, his blue eyes—so much like their father's—dancing with amusement. "Only by five minutes."

"Seven," she corrected, setting her glass down. "And that's generous."

Liam laughed, flagging the waiter for his own drink. "God, Ava, you sound like Dad."

The words hit sharper than she expected, but she refused to show it. Their father's absence was something neither of them discussed in depth. It was a wound that had never truly healed, a shadow that still loomed over both their lives.

"Someone has to keep things together," she replied smoothly.

Liam leaned back in his chair, studying her with an unreadable expression. "You know, for someone who has everything under control, you seem pretty tense."

"And for someone who's supposed to be charming, you're being particularly irritating tonight," she shot back.

He chuckled, shaking his head. "Relax, Ava. It's just dinner. No depositions, no negotiations. Just us."

Just us. It sounded simple, but it never was. Not when their mother's ghost still lingered between them. Not when every moment felt like a carefully balanced act, one misstep away from unraveling.

Before she could respond, Liam's phone buzzed on the table. His eyes flickered to the screen, and for the first time that evening, something in his expression shifted—hesitation, uncertainty.

Ava narrowed her gaze. "Who is it?"

Liam hesitated, then turned the phone over, screen down. "No one important."

She arched an eyebrow. "Since when do you hide things from me?"

"Since when do you care?" he countered, the teasing edge in his voice replaced by something more serious.

The silence between them stretched, fragile and strained. Ava knew Liam too well. He was hiding something—or someone. And for the first time in a long while, she realized there was a part of his life she wasn't privy to.

She should have let it go. But Ava Sinclair never let anything go.

"Liam—"

"Ava, let it be." His voice was softer now, almost pleading. "Not everything needs to be a battle."

Maybe not. But some things needed to be won.

She leaned back, picking up her wine glass again, masking her thoughts behind an unreadable expression. "Fine. But don't expect me to look the other way forever."

Liam exhaled, offering a small, knowing smile. "I wouldn't expect anything less."

The tension between them lingered, unspoken yet palpable, a reminder that for all their shared history, there were still secrets between them.

And Ava hated secrets.