"What?" Winn asked. His eyes flicked to his father.

"Aren’t you?" Tom asked, as if the accusation was just a casual question about the weather. "You’ve failed to keep Irene, failed to have your grandfather’s will read, failed to keep your Dutch investors, even failed at marrying a simple whore. You have failed this family since the moment you were born."

"Tom..."

Winn sat still. "You’re right," he said. "I have failed at a number of things."

"I thought I was more of an Orchard than a Kane," he continued. "But I guess I’m one hundred percent a Kane. Failure runs in our blood, doesn’t it, Dad?"

Tom’s fork froze halfway to his mouth. His eyes flicked up, but Winn didn’t stop.

"You’ve been running your company since before I was born," Winn went on, the words coming faster now, sharper.

"And what do you have to show for it? A crumbling legacy, a reputation so rotten even the vultures don’t bother circling. No forward-thinking mogul wants to do business with Kane Finance anymore. You’ve failed as a businessman."

Tom’s hand twitched.

"You’ve failed as a husband. You parade mother around like a trophy, but we both know she’s just another piece of furniture you can control. You’ve failed as a father too—because no matter how much you tried, you couldn’t beat the Kane rot out of us. I’m your son, Dad. Through and through. Just another beautiful disaster in your image."

Anna covered her mouth, tears glistening in her eyes, but she didn’t move.

"Watch your tone, boy."

Winn gave a bitter laugh. "Why? Are you going to hit me? Go ahead. Maybe it’ll remind you of when you still had the strength to scare someone."

Winn got to his feet then and moved toward his mother. He bent down, brushing a kiss against her forehead. "I love you, Mum," he whispered.

Anna reached up, her fingers curling weakly around his wrist. "Winn... please don’t go like this," she whispered.

"Oh, let him run away," Tom spat. "Both kids you gave me are utterly useless and pathetic. Good riddance."

Anna turned toward Winn, whose fingers had curled so tightly into fists that his knuckles gleamed bone-white. She could almost hear the sound of his self-control splintering.

"Winn..." she whispered. But she could already see it in his eyes—the wildfire of rage he inherited from his father. That same piercing glare.

Winn’s jaw flexed as he took a step back, his breath coming out in short, furious bursts.

When he finally moved, it was sudden and explosive. He tore himself from his mother’s hold and crossed the room in two long strides.

"Winn!" Anna cried, her chair screeching backward as she rose.

Winn stopped in front of his father.

Then, without warning, Winn reached forward and yanked the tablecloth with a violent sweep.

The crash was deafening. China shattered. Silverware clattered to the floor. The wine glasses were in pieces, food everywhere. Anna’s scream broke the air. "Oh my God!" she gasped.

Tom’s face turned a deep, furious red. "You little—"

Winn leaned down, pressing his palms flat on the now-bare table, leaning so close that his breath brushed his father’s cheek. "You done?" he asked quietly.

Tom sneered.

"I warned you," Winn continued. "I told you to keep your toxicity away from my sister. You say something like that about her to her face—and I get wind of it—I don’t care who you are to me, you’ll be picking your teeth off the floor."

Anna was crying softly now, her trembling hands pressed against her lips as she watched the two men she loved most destroy each other piece by piece.

Winn straightened, his breath still ragged, his eyes cold. Without another word, he turned and strode toward the front door.

His thoughts spiraled around Sylvia.

Tom had a way of breaking people slowly. With words that slipped under your skin and stayed there. Sylvia wasn’t built for that kind of cruelty—she was soft, sensitive.

And if there was one thing Winn knew about Tom Kane, it was that the man didn’t need just his fists to destroy someone. Just words—and enough time to say them.

He made a mental note to reassign Reese to Sylvia first thing in the morning. If anyone could keep their father’s poison at bay, it was him. The thought of needing a bodyguard for his own sister made Winn’s stomach twist. He leaned back in the car seat and let out a long sigh, running a hand down his face.

In what world, he thought bitterly, what twisted, godforsaken world would a man need to protect his sister from his father?

The Kane estate loomed behind him in the rearview mirror—its tall gates closing. Inside that house was unspoken cruelty. He tapped the steering wheel, exhaling sharply as if trying to drive out the ache in his chest.

He should have gone home. Yet somehow, his subconscious had taken the wheel. Before he even realized it, he was driving past familiar streets through Long Island, until the road narrowed into the quiet suburban lane that led straight to her.

Ivy’s house.

The sight of it hit him harder than expected. The porch light was on. The flowers he’d sent her weeks ago were still there, wilted now, their petals drooping. But beside them sat a fresh bouquet, the white lilies stark against the gloom.

He remembered then—the damn weekly delivery subscription. He’d set it up himself, thinking he was being romantic.

He ran his hand through his hair, leaned back in the seat, and stared at her porch.

"Why did you do it, Ivy?" he whispered into the dark. "We could have talked about it."

His throat tightened as the weight of everything—the fight with his father, the investors dumb idea, Joey’s pain, Ivy’s absence—pressed down all at once. He blinked, and for the first time since Ivy walked out of his life, Winn let himself cry.

He rested his forehead on the steering wheel, his hands trembling as he finally surrendered to the heartbreak he’d been dodging for weeks.