Trevor sat in his dimly lit room, his back pressed against the cool leather of his chair. The curtains were drawn, allowing only the faintest slivers of sunlight to filter through. The holo-projector flickered before him, casting the imposing figure of his father into the room.
Trevor had skipped today's lectures. Not because he was avoiding anyone—not because of yesterday. He told himself that wasn't the reason. This was more important. This was real power.
And from the way his father's smirk curled at the edges of his lips, it was obvious.
The Philips family had won.
"Well done, Trevor," his father's voice came through the transmission, smooth, pleased, like a general surveying the battlefield after a successful purge. "Your actions worked."
Trevor exhaled slowly, keeping his expression neutral despite the growing satisfaction curling in his chest.
