Stan Goldberg had always prided himself on his investments—none more so than his children. The ten-year-old twins, Alex and Daisy, were the crown jewels of his legacy, thriving with every advantage modern science could provide.

  He watched Alex grow with a particular sense of pride, a silent acknowledgment that this son represented the pinnacle of his ambitions. Though he loved all his children, it was Alex who stirred a deeper sense of accomplishment.

  Adam, the eldest, had naturally assumed the role of protector, watching over his younger siblings with a quiet diligence. But it was Daisy who truly bonded with him. There was a warmth in her, a softness that mirrored his own. Together, they shared a deep connection—hours spent engrossed in the same passions: nature, technology, and coding. With her, Adam found the sibling bond he had longed for, one that Alex's arrogance had all but severed.

  One afternoon, when the twins were ten, they were summoned to Stan’s office. The room was imposing—mahogany desk, leather chairs, and shelves lined with heavy books. Stan sat behind the desk, immaculate in a crisp shirt and tie, his expression unreadable. The twins, sensing the gravity of the moment, took their seats nervously, exchanging glances. A visit to their father's office could lead to praise or punishment, and the uncertainty weighed heavily.

  Stan leaned forward, his voice slow and deliberate. “Do you know,” he began, pausing for effect, “how much I’ve spent... on your genes... and education?”

  It was a familiar phrase in elite circles. Gone were the days when parents boasted only about tuition fees. Now, they measured love and legacy by the cost of customized DNA.

  Daisy blinked, confused. “But I got good grades,” she said softly, her voice hesitant.

  Alex quickly followed. “So did I,” he added, more defensively.

  Stan’s tone softened as he turned to Daisy. “Yes, you did. You’ve done wonderfully.” He met her eyes with rare warmth. “I brought you here because I wanted your brother to understand that both of you have had the same opportunities—the same advantages.”

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  Then his gaze shifted to Alex, darker now. “But you, son—you were fifteen percent behind your sister in most of your exams.”

  Alex stiffened but said nothing.

  “Your teacher says you’re cocky as well,” Stan added, his voice heavy with disappointment. Then, turning back to Daisy, he said more gently, “You can go.”

  Daisy hesitated, glancing at Alex. A flicker of pity crossed her face. They didn’t always get along, but in that moment, she felt a pang of sympathy. “Father,” she said cautiously, “Alex’s grades are still good. They’re not as high as mine, but they’re still good.”

  Stan raised a hand, dismissing her. “Go,” he said firmly.

  With a reluctant nod, Daisy rose and slipped out, the door closing softly behind her. She wished she had done more to defend Alex, but questioning her father’s authority was a risk she wasn't ready to take.

  As soon as she was gone, Stan turned his full attention to Alex. “Well?” he demanded. “Is there a reason you did less well than your sister?”

  Alex kept his head bowed, calculating. Slowly, he looked up, tears glistening at the corners of his eyes. “It’s Adam, Father,” he said, voice trembling. “He helps Daisy with her homework—gives her extra lessons. But he won’t teach me. You know he doesn’t like me.”

  Stan’s expression hardened. Without a word, he strode to the office doors and flung them open.

  “Adam! Get in here!”

  Adam, his heart pounding, walked briskly down the hall, breaking into short sprints as dread rose in his throat. Stan Goldberg had a way of instilling fear without raising his voice, and today, the air itself seemed heavy with accusation.

  He stepped into the office, where silence had settled like a storm cloud.

  “Why do you help Daisy and not Alex?” Stan’s voice was sharp, barely restrained.

  Alex sat slumped in his chair, head bowed in false submission. But Adam caught the faintest flicker of a smirk—his brother’s satisfaction unmistakable.

  “I do help,” Adam began, but his words were swallowed by the atmosphere. He tried to explain, pleaded his case, but Stan wasn’t listening. His mind had already chosen a villain.

  Accusations came in a torrent, relentless and loud. Then came the final blow:

  “You can help Daisy and refuse to help Alex? He is your brother, for crying out loud. You are a big disappointment to me.”

  A tear slipped down Adam’s cheek, unbidden but impossible to hide.

  Stan saw it. And for a brief moment, guilt broke through the fury. “I shouldn’t have said that,” he muttered. “I’m sorry. But you need to toughen up. Be hard.”

  He waved Adam away. “Go on. Go.”

  Adam turned and left, the door clicking shut behind him.

  His dislike for Alex had only deepened. His brother’s manipulative nature stung more than ever. And as he walked away, he wished he could be more ruthless—but feared it simply wasn’t in his nature.