I was right in the middle of steering a high-stakes international board meeting when my phone buzzed. It was my younger brother. When I answered, his voice was tight, trembling with a suffocating weight. "Cole... my study abroad spot. Someone took it." I dropped everything and drove straight to his university campus. When I pushed open the door to the faculty office, I found Miles backed into a corner, the edges of his eyes rimmed with red. Standing in front of him, practically in his face, was a kid dressed like a walking billboard for streetwear brands, pointing a finger at my brother’s chest with absolute disdain. "You think you can compete with me?" the kid sneered. "I’m the heir to the Montgomery family. My mother just donated an entire science center to this school. What the hell are you?" Even the academic advisor standing off to the side was chiming in, his tone dripping with patronizing warning. "Mr. Sinclair, Chase is the son of one of our most vital benefactors. Just be smart about this. Don't make things difficult for everyone." I was half a second away from stepping in and tearing them both apart, but those words—the heir to the Montgomery family—froze the blood in my veins. The Montgomery family of Boston? Since when did my mother have a third son? Without missing a beat, I pulled out my phone and dialed my mother's number. When she answered, I let out a dry, humorless laugh. "Mom," I said, my voice dropping to a deadpan chill. "When exactly did you have another son behind Dad's back?"
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