Business magnate's daughter, Isla Templeton (Feather), is the youngest of André Templeton's three children. And the top topic in the upper-class gossip in New York City.
Isla has always been a fighter; after losing her mother at a young age by sui...
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The knock at the door came quietly. My father never knocked. He entered every room when he wanted, spoke when he wanted, and expected you to be ready for whatever he had to say. But today, it felt different.
"Philip," he said, opening the door without waiting for an invitation. He stepped in, closing the door behind him. "We need to talk."
I nodded, already feeling the tension build in my chest. My father wasn't a man for casual conversations. If he was here, it was because of something he needed me to hear—and, more likely, something he needed me to do.
He walked over to the chair by the window, sitting down as if this was his room and I was the guest. His eyes scanned me, calculating, as if he was measuring my reaction before he even spoke.
"I know things have been... complicated for you," he began, his voice surprisingly soft. "With Noah, with the company. But I need you to understand something, Philip. You've never been an outsider in this family. You've always been part of the plan."
I stared at him, my fists tightening at my sides. He always had a way of saying the right things, of making me feel like I finally mattered, only to twist it into something that served him.
"I've always intended for you to have a role," he continued, his tone almost reassuring. "It was never my intention to make you feel like Noah was the only one who mattered. I want you to know that."
"I haven't said anything, Dad, I—"
"It's okay, son." The words were meant to soothe, but they fell flat.
He was saying them now when everything was starting to unravel when he needed me on his side. But where was this when I spent years watching Noah take the spotlight? When I stood in the shadows, waiting for any acknowledgment?
"And Isla?" I asked, my voice tighter than I expected. "Sending her to that rehabilitation center—was that part of your plan, too? For her own good?"
His gaze didn't falter. "Yes. Isla needed help, and I did what I thought was best for her. Just like I'm doing what's best for you."
I swallowed hard, my heart pounding in my chest. It was always the same with him—control that was wrapped under a thin layer of care.
"You and Noah both carry the Templeton name, but I've always known you were the one with the potential," he said, leaning forward, his eyes locking onto mine. "Noah... he's not the right fit for the vice presidency anymore. But you, Philip—you can be it."
The words hit me hard, but not in the way he expected. Noah had given everything to this family, to the company. He had sacrificed his life for it. And now, just like that, Dad was dismissing him, brushing him aside like he didn't matter.
"Did you tell Noah? What's going to happen to him?" I asked, my voice quieter, almost hesitant.
My father's expression shifted, colder now, more calculating. "Noah. He isn't fully part of this family the way you are. He's not my son by blood. He's Sonia's."
