Episode 19

The sterile hum of Kim’s office did little to soothe the gnawing unease in his gut. Sunlight, a pale imitation of the warmth he craved, filtered through the blinds, striping the polished mahogany desk. He traced the grain with a manicured finger, the cool wood a stark contrast to the heat that simmered beneath the surface. His gaze drifted to a framed photograph, a younger, less guarded version of himself, standing beside his siblings. A ghost of a smile touched his lips, then vanished as quickly as it appeared.

He remembered the early days, the shared whispers of ambition, the intoxicating scent of possibility that had clung to them like cheap perfume. The sisters' trust fund, a seemingly endless wellspring of opportunity, had been their shared inheritance, a golden ticket out of their provincial lives. He and Douglas, and even Jeffrey, had been so eager, so hungry for more. But the hunger, he now realized, had curdled into something ugly, something that festered in the quiet corners of his mind.

It was Katja, of course. Always Katja. The white sheep, the untarnished one. While they had clawed and scraped their way to the top, she had floated above it all, her quiet dignity a constant, unspoken accusation. He saw it in her eyes, that unnerving clarity, that ability to pierce through his carefully constructed facade. Their parents, consumed by their own demons, had cast them all adrift, but Katja, she had been the constant, the anchor they had all secretly longed for, even as they resented her purity.