Broken promises

Family Ties And Unspoken Questions

The dining room at the Carson estate was as grand as one would expect, filled with an air of tradition yet warmed by the lively energy of Susan Carson. Mick sat uncomfortably at the table, flanked by Rhyle on one side and Susan on the other. The food was laid out in a way that made his simple meals at home seem almost laughable.

Susan, ever the gracious host, began to chat with Mick. "So, Mick, tell me, how have you found it here so far? Are you comfortable?" Her eyes were filled with genuine warmth, making Mick feel slightly more at ease.

He smiled, still unsure how to navigate being here in Rhyle’s home, let alone seated beside his mother. "It's been... different," Mick replied carefully. He didn’t want to sound ungrateful but wasn’t sure how much to reveal. "But yes, I’m comfortable."

Susan beamed. "I’m glad to hear that! Our home has always been open to guests, and you’re no different. I want you to feel like family, Mick."

Rhyle, sitting beside him, seemed slightly annoyed but didn’t speak. Mick noticed the tension in his posture, but Susan continued speaking, oblivious.

Suddenly, a man entered the room, looking as if he were in his late twenties. He carried himself with a casual air, but there was something charming about him. He approached the table and sat down, offering a warm smile.

Susan turned to Mick and introduced him. "Ah, Mick, this is my elder son, James Carson. He’s finally back in town. James, this is Mick."

Mick was a little taken aback. He had no idea Rhyle had siblings. He glanced between James and Rhyle, trying to see any resemblance, but their personalities seemed worlds apart.

James extended his hand to Mick, his smile wide and welcoming. "Nice to meet you, Mick. I’m James—though I doubt you’ve heard much about me. I tend to stay away from the business and all that rivalry stuff. Not really my scene." He laughed lightly, his friendliness making Mick feel more at ease.

"No, I hadn’t heard," Mick admitted with a soft chuckle, shaking James’ hand. "It’s nice to meet you, too."

Susan smiled proudly, pointing at James. "He’s my firstborn, then there's Rhyle, and my youngest son is still abroad for his studies. Three boys—each one different but equally dear to me."

As Mick listened to her speak, he found himself admiring how open and kind Susan was. Despite the danger and power that surrounded the Carson family, Susan seemed to radiate warmth. And James, with his easygoing nature, seemed so different from Rhyle's intense, mysterious aura.

They continued their lunch, with Susan asking Mick gentle questions and James chiming in with lighthearted remarks. Rhyle remained quiet, occasionally exchanging glances with Mick, as if silently trying to remind him that this lunch was only a small break from the reality of their situation.

Once lunch was over, Rhyle finally spoke up, his tone impatient. "Mom, can I take him now? We’ve got work to do."

Susan gave him a teasing smile but nodded. "Oh, fine, fine. But don’t keep him locked away for too long, Rhyle." She winked at Mick, making him smile slightly.

Rhyle stood up, gesturing for Mick to follow. Mick stood as well, giving Susan and James a polite nod before being led to Rhyle's office, which was tucked away in another wing of the house. The atmosphere shifted as soon as the door closed behind them, the lightness of lunch replaced by the weight of unspoken tension.

Mick sat down in the chair across from Rhyle’s desk, feeling the shift. He looked around the office, which was sleek and minimalist, yet somehow imposing, much like Rhyle himself. He leaned back in the chair and looked at Rhyle, his expression half-curious, half-wary.

"So, Mr. Carson," Mick said, using Rhyle’s last name with a hint of sarcasm. "What’s next? I mean, just a few hours ago, I was crying, you were holding me, and then there was silence. Now I’m here in your house having lunch with your family. What’s this really about? Do you want something in exchange for all of this?"

Rhyle paused, narrowing his eyes slightly as he leaned back against his desk, arms crossed. "I want nothing from you, Mick," he said, his tone flat. "I brought you here to work. That's it."

Mick wasn’t sure if he believed that, but he let it slide for now. Rhyle handed him a stack of papers, and Mick frowned.

"So, work? You brought me here for this?" Mick asked, raising an eyebrow.

Rhyle gave a faint smirk. "Work is work. What did you expect?"

Mick sighed, feeling a strange mix of confusion and frustration. He glanced down at the papers Rhyle had given him and started working through them quietly. The rest of the afternoon passed in relative silence, with Rhyle occasionally glancing at Mick as if waiting for something, though he never spoke up.

As the hours ticked by, Mick checked the time and realized it was already late. He stood up from the chair, stretching. "I should get going. It’s getting late."

Rhyle looked up from his own work, his expression hardening slightly. "Do you really want to go back to that house?" he asked, his voice low and serious.

Mick hesitated. Rhyle had seen his wounds, the ones his father left behind. He hated the idea of going back, but what other option did he have? He forced a smile, trying to sound casual. "I’ll be fine. It’s my home."

Rhyle frowned, clearly unhappy with the answer. "At least let me drive you back."

Mick shook his head. "No, it’s okay. I’ll manage."

But Rhyle wasn’t one to take no for an answer. "I’m sending a driver with you. I’m not letting you go back there alone."

Mick sighed, realizing there was no point in arguing. "Fine," he muttered, grabbing his things.

As he walked toward the door, Rhyle called out, "Mick."

Mick paused, looking back over his shoulder.

"Be careful," Rhyle said, his tone softer, almost unrecognizable.

Mick nodded, not sure how to respond. He left the room, escorted by Rhyle’s driver, feeling more confused than ever.

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