Page 17 of Claimed By The Other Brother

"You didn't run away. You chose your own path. That takes courage."

"Or it's just me being indecisive. Again." He laughs, but there's no humor in it.

"Remember how Dad used to say I'd never stick with anything? How I'd start projects and abandon them halfway through?"

I remember. I also remember the arguments. Dad pushing Miles to commit to the business. Miles pushing back, insisting he wanted something different. Miles starting initiatives and dropping them when they got difficult. The pattern repeated itself throughout his childhood and into his twenties.

"You stuck with journalism," I point out.

"That's not nothing."

"I guess." He checks his phone again, frowning at the screen.

"Everything okay?" I ask.

"Yeah. Just work stuff. I'm finishing up this big investigation, and my editor keeps textingme questions." He types a quick response and sets the phone down.

"Deadline's right after the wedding."

"What's the story about?"

"City council corruption. Kickbacks, falsified contracts. It's going to be big when it drops." There's pride in his voice. This is what he cares about. This is what he chose over the family empire.

We talk about his work for a while. I ask questions, and he answers, animated in a way I haven't seen before. He's good at this. Maybe he did find what he was supposed to do.

"How's the company?" Miles asks eventually.

"Still taking over the world?"

"We're expanding into podcasting. Acquired a major network last month." I give him the highlights. Revenue growth. Market share. The streaming service launch that exceeded projections.

Miles listens, nodding along.

"You've done incredible things with it, Dax. Dad would be... I mean, he'd be blown away by what you've built."

"It's what he started. I just took it further."

"That's not true and you know it." Miles leans forward.

"You tripled the company's value. You turned a regional operation into a national powerhouse. That's all you."

The compliment sits uncomfortably between us.We're not used to this. Praise. Acknowledgment. Brotherhood.

"I never had your ambition for the corporate world," Miles says quietly.

"The drive to build something that big, to make those kinds of decisions every day. I couldn't do what you do."

There's an unspoken truth in his words. Miles has never been good at following through when things get hard. He shifts direction when the pressure builds. It's who he's always been.

"You have your own strengths," I tell him.

"Different doesn't mean less."

He smiles, but it doesn't reach his eyes.

"You always were the one who stepped up. When Dad died, you didn't hesitate. You just took the reins and ran with it."

There's something underneath his words. Guilt? Relief? Both, probably.