Rafael's grip tightened, his sarcastic mask slipping to reveal deep scars of his own family's treachery. "They did, love. Just like mine tried with me. Greed turns blood to poison."
James nodded grimly. "H's been planning this for years. Listen—it's heartbreaking."
Kenneth went on, and this time his voice faltered—not from age, but from something far heavier. The room watched as one of the world's richest men did something far rarer than writing checks.
He bled.
"It all started as whispers," he said quietly. "Late-night calls that went dead when I answered. Meetings I was never meant to know about." He paused, swallowing. "Three and a half years ago, none of my children lived with me anymore. They'd all left—built their own lives far away from the old man who paid for them." A sad smile touched his lips. "But I was still their father. I still worried. I still wondered how they were faring."
A soft exhale rippled through the crowd.
