Heir Born

19 | Nate

It's not a typical evening at the Vanderbilt Estate. Both my parents are home for dinner — at the same time. That never happens.

I step into the dining room and find them already seated, side by side, on their usual end of the massive table that stretches across the room like a runway for dysfunction.

I lean down and kiss my mother on the cheek.

"You know I don't like it when you come to dinner late, honey." She smiles while chastising me, as always. I glance over at my father. He shrugs like there's nothing to be done. His face just says, you know your mother.

I sit across from her and reach for my water. "I'm sorry, Mother. I lost track of time."

"I didn't think you'd be home for dinner tonight," I say to her. I probably sound like I'm accusing her of keeping state secrets. Hey, can anyone blame me, when dinner as a family only means a fight? I keep my eyes down and take a sip. Wondering how long she's going to let the silence stretch before she comes at me.

"Nathaniel, darling, you know I'm always home on Thursdays." Her laugh is sharp, clipped — not unfriendly on purpose, just cold by default.

"Right," I say. It's all I can manage. My mind's already spinning with how I'm going to tell them. About Summer.

She shifts her attention to my father. "Gregory's lawyers contacted Perceval and the rest of the team today."

"That's to be expected, darling." He starts to say more, but he sees me and pulls back. "It would be better for everyone if the suit was settled out of court."

He doesn't even look at her — just flips another page in the financial paper sprawled beside his plate.

"Yes, well. We'll see if anything comes of it. I, for one, am not holding my breath." She declares proudly in between her sips of wine.

"Stop it, Eleanor. This suit is bad for business. Our name is being dragged through the mud all over the press."

"Oh, you're exaggerating, Charles. It's hardly bad publicity. Vanderbilt Media has always been the victim in all of this."

"And what about Lennox Networks? Gregory lost millions of dollars because of what happened."

"You can say it, Charles. Embezzlement." She glances at me like I'm an accessory to the crime. "Nate knows everything. How could he not, when it's plastered all over every news channel?"

She takes a long sip of her wine, clearly enjoying the drama more than she should.

My father finally remembers I'm here. He looks at me and sighs. "I don't want our son to concern himself with all this nonsense."

"Don't stop on my account," I mutter, poking at my food. "You never have before."

"See, Charles? He's not the impressionable little boy you think he is." She smiles at me, smug and satisfied. I don't return it. I'm tired of being the backdrop for their endless sparring.

"Mother, please." My voice is tight. I glance at my father, hoping he'll at least attempt to intervene. Of course, he doesn't. Typical. But maybe this is the moment. Maybe it's the right time to finally just say it.

I sit up straighter and look between them. No use softening the blow — nothing will make this easier, not with Eleanor.

"Father. Mother. There's something I need to tell you." Instantly, the energy shifts.

My mother's expression hardens. Cold steel behind the pearls. My father stays relaxed, unreadable, but his hand stills on the paper.

"Summer Lennox and I are... seeing each other."