Milo could barely breathe as he stepped out of the auction house, the weight of the evening settling over him like a heavy cloak. The fact that his painting had sold for thirty thousand dollars was still surreal, but it couldn't fully erase the nagging feeling that had lingered all night—the unsettling presence of Victor Kingsley.
He had tried to ignore Victor during the event, focusing instead on the people who had shown interest in his work, but every time he caught sight of Victor's cold, distant gaze, a sense of discomfort washed over him. It was almost as if the man's eyes were measuring him, sizing him up as if he were some object to be appraised. Milo hated it.
But it wasn't just Victor that had left him uneasy—it was his father, Henry Kingsley. The older man was warm and genuine, everything his son wasn't. Henry had been kind to him all night, praising his work, speaking to him like an equal. And despite how much Milo tried to remain detached, he couldn't help but feel a sense of admiration for Henry's sincerity.
As Milo reached the steps to his car, his phone buzzed in his pocket. He pulled it out, expecting a message from one of his friends, but instead, it was an unexpected call from none other than Henry Kingsley himself.
"Milo," Henry's voice came through, warm and inviting as always. "I hope you're doing well after tonight. Listen, I wanted to extend an invitation. I would love for you to join us for dinner tomorrow evening. It'll be a small gathering, just the family. I'd be honored if you'd come."
Milo blinked in surprise, his mind racing. Dinner with the Kingsleys? That felt… too formal, too intimate for someone like him. He barely knew the family, and certainly not well enough to join them for dinner. But before he could voice his polite refusal, Henry continued.
"I know it might seem a bit sudden, but my son Victor and I have spoken a lot about your work, and I think you'd enjoy a conversation with the both of us. Don't worry, it'll be casual—nothing fancy. Just a chance to relax and talk art, business, life. I promise you'll enjoy it."
Milo hesitated. He wanted to refuse gently, to explain that he had other plans, but Henry's voice was so genuine, so warm. He didn't want to disappoint the man, who had already shown him so much kindness. And there was something about Henry's words, his insistence, that made Milo feel like he was meant to accept.
"Well…" Milo began, his voice quiet but resolute, "I suppose I could come for a short time. It's just… a bit unexpected."
"I completely understand. But I do hope you'll join us. We'd love to have you," Henry said, his tone soft yet persuasive.
Milo couldn't help but smile at the kindness in the man's voice. "Alright, I'll be there."
"Fantastic," Henry replied, his voice filled with delight. "I'll send the details later. It'll be wonderful to have you."
As Milo ended the call and slipped his phone back into his pocket, he sighed. He hadn't expected to be invited into the Kingsleys' home so soon, especially not after such an intense evening. He wasn't sure what to think—Henry was nice, but Victor… Victor had made it clear he wasn't interested in having him around.
***
The next evening, Milo found himself standing in front of the grand Kingsley estate, his nerves working overtime. The house was even more intimidating up close—an enormous, elegant mansion with perfectly manicured lawns and sweeping stone steps leading to a massive front door.
He had to admit, Henry's invitation had been tempting, but he couldn't shake the feeling that tonight was going to be more complicated than he'd originally anticipated. And the one thing he was sure of—Victor was going to make this as uncomfortable as possible.
A sleek black limo pulled up, and before he could reconsider, the door opened, revealing Henry Kingsley's warm, inviting face.
"Milo, welcome! I'm so glad you could make it," Henry said, stepping out and offering a hand to help him into the car.
Milo forced a smile. "Thank you, Mr. Kingsley. This is… this is very kind of you."
Henry chuckled. "Nonsense, Milo. Please, call me Henry. It's no trouble at all."
As Milo slid into the car, he was immediately struck by the cold, almost palpable tension in the air. Victor was already sitting in the back, his posture rigid and his gaze directed out the window, ignoring Milo's presence entirely. The moment their eyes met, a quiet hostility seemed to pass between them, like an unspoken understanding that neither of them wanted to be here.
Milo sat as far from Victor as possible, his hands clutching the seat as he tried to ignore the uneasy feeling growing in his chest. The limo's sleek interior, designed to exude luxury and comfort, only seemed to emphasize how awkward the situation was.
Victor finally broke the silence with a sharp, low tone. "I don't know why you're here," he muttered, his eyes flicking to Milo for a moment before turning away again. "I don't see how it's necessary for you to be invited to our dinner. It's… ridiculous."
Milo narrowed his eyes, his voice tight. "I didn't exactly ask for this, you know. But your father insisted, and I wasn't about to be rude."
Victor's jaw clenched, his eyes flickering with irritation, but he didn't respond immediately. Instead, he stared out the window, clearly frustrated.
Henry, sensing the rising tension, let out a small, knowing sigh. "Victor, come now. It's just dinner. I thought it might be a good opportunity to get to know Milo a little better."
Victor's lips curled in disdain. "You didn't have to invite him, Father. There's no reason to make him feel like part of this family."
Henry's tone softened, though there was a firmness to it. "Victor, you're too quick to judge. You might not see it, but Milo has something valuable to offer. Besides, it's important to be kind to those who are different from us."
Victor's fingers gripped the armrest tightly, his frustration seeping into his posture. "I don't need you to lecture me," he snapped, his voice low but biting.
Henry raised an eyebrow, but instead of reacting with anger, he only gave Victor a gentle look—a look that said he understood, but was still disappointed. "Victor," he said quietly, "Sometimes kindness doesn't make sense right away, but it always has its purpose."
Victor clenched his jaw, and for a moment, he didn't speak. Milo, who had been silent up until now, caught the subtle exchange between father and son. There was something about the way Henry spoke to Victor that made him feel like an outsider in this family dynamic. It was clear that while Victor resented the warmth his father offered, Henry was unwavering in his belief that kindness was the answer to everything.
The limo pulled into the driveway of the Kingsley estate, and the tension inside the car was thick enough to slice through. Henry glanced over at Milo, his expression softening as he spoke again.
"We're almost there. Just try to relax. We're family tonight, alright?"
Milo nodded, but the uneasy feeling in his stomach wouldn't fade. As the car came to a stop, he braced himself for whatever was to come next. He wasn't sure if he could survive another evening of Victor's cold glares, but one thing was certain—his relationship with the Kingsley family was only beginning to get complicated.