Chapter 170 Brothers at War

Chapter 170 Brothers at War
DAMON

"I have to go back to the office, baby," I muttered, setting my phone face down on the wooden table.

The calm, peaceful bubble of our bookstore cafe date completely vanished. Zara looked at me, her eyes wide with a sudden wave of worry, but she didn't argue. She just reached across the table and squeezed my hand tightly, a silent, reassuring nod that told me she understood. Ten minutes later, I had dropped her off and was stepping into the elevator at Thorne Global, my chest tightening as I prepared to face whatever storm my father had cooked up now.

When the doors clicked open on the executive floor, the room was already filled with a suffocating tension.

Thomas didn't waste a single second on introductions or pleasantries. He set his gold fountain pen down with a definitive click, his piercing gaze locking directly between Elias and me. "The board has decided to pit the two of you into a competitive merger with our international competitors. The winner of this contract will immediately be appointed as Executive Vice President of Thorne Global Enterprises."

My heart hammered a violent rhythm against my ribs as I stared back at my father. It was a deliberate setup. For weeks, I had noticed Iris always fueling the already existing rivalry between Elias and me every single day in the hallways, whispering in his ear during every break. She was systematically convincing Elias that beating me in this boardroom was the only way Thomas would ever truly love him again, using his trauma to turn our brotherly friction into an absolute war.

The briefing finally concluded after an hour of grueling statistical analysis, the staff filing out into the corridor in a quiet, orderly line. I stepped out to head toward the elevators, my mind still heavy with the thought of Zara, when the sound of unfamiliar voices near the lobby made me freeze in my tracks.

Three tall, athletic guys wearing regional baseball jackets were standing near the reception desk, looking around the sleek glass building in confusion. They were Elias's old teammates.
Elias was walking toward them from his private suite, his jaw set in a rigid line as his shoes slammed against the floor.

"Elias, man, what the hell are you doing here in a suit?" the tallest baseball player asked, reaching out to clap his shoulder. "The scouts are clearing the primary draft registries this week. The coach has been paging your cell for months. We need our star pitcher back on the training fields, man. Come back to the team."

Elias didn't flinch, and he didn't look at their jackets with a single shred of regret. He smoothly pulled his shoulder back, his voice dropping to a flat completely sterile register as he stared dead into his old friend's face. "I don't know why the coach keeps calling my phone, i have quit baseball for quite some time now, and I’m not planning on going back. My place is at this table. Please you guys should leave the building."

The players blinked in total shock, murmuring in disappointment before the security detail guided them toward the exit doors.

I leaned my back against a cold stone pillar, a bitter laugh escaping my lips as I watched them leave. This life is honestly so funny. Someone has the absolute liberty to become a professional athlete, to do whatever he pleases with his future, but he prefers to stay trapped in this hell just to prove himself worthy of being the most desired son. Whereas there is me. A guy who doesn't even want to be here, who wants to be an athlete by profession, to do what he actually likes, but I am being forced to stay in this prison instead, to deal with all their schemes and frustration.

Elias had just become exactly what Iris wanted, a complete slave to the throne, blinded by a dark ambition that was systematically eating him alive from the inside out.

"Damon. In my office. Now," my father's calm voice barked from the corridor behind me, cutting through my thoughts instantly.

I straightened my tie and walked into Thomas private office, the heavy double doors clicking shut behind my back. Thomas stood by the glass windows, looking out at the city avenue below with his hands tucked loosely into his trousers pockets. He didn't turn around immediately.

"The board expects absolute precision on the international frameworks, Damon," Thomas privately told me, his tone dropping to a low, lethal register that turned the air to ice. He slowly turned his head to lock his cold eyes directly onto my face. "If you lose this deal to your brother... don't bother calling yourself my son anymore. I will permanently strip your inheritance."

The fury in my chest violently cracked my composure, my fists clenching tight at my sides as I took a sharp step toward his desk.
"But Elias is your son too, and you're finally starting to appreciate his effort," I countered fiercely, my deep voice vibrating with years of suppressed trauma. "If I lose, he wins, and there is absolutely nothing wrong with that for the family name. So, am I still getting punished regardless of who keeps the empire alive?"

Thomas Thorne didn't flinch, and he didn't lose his clinical composure. He smoothly walked around the desk, smoothing the front of his designer suit jacket as he looked down at me with a terrifying, unyielding authority.
"Elias is my son. Yes," Thomas murmured smoothly, a cold smile touching his lips as he paused right beside my shoulder. "But this is another chance for you to prove your competence... Yet again. Do not take it for granted. And I want you out of my office before I return."

He marched straight past me and out into the main hallway without another word, his shoes slamming rhythmically against the floorboards before the door slammed shut. I stood entirely alone in the suffocating quiet of his office, the absolute gravity of the war zone pressing down on my shoulders.