The dinner had been unexpectedly pleasant so far. Henry Kingsley had a natural way of making people feel at ease, and Milo found himself enjoying the older man's warm personality, despite Victor's constant cold glances across the table.
Just as dessert was being served, Henry leaned forward, a thoughtful look on his face. "Milo," he began, his voice soft yet deliberate. "I've been thinking about your work lately. What you're doing, your passion… it's inspiring. And I think you'd be a perfect fit for something I have in mind."
Milo blinked, caught off guard. "Oh? What… what do you mean?"
Victor's fork clattered against his plate, and he stilled, his eyes narrowing at his father. But Henry seemed oblivious to the reaction and continued, "I want to offer you a contract, Milo. To work with me. We could help bring your work to a broader audience, provide you with resources that would let you focus solely on creating."
Milo stared, stunned. "Mr. Kingsley, I… I don't even know what to say."
Henry chuckled, waving a hand. "Say yes, if you feel it's right. I'll be more than happy to help with anything you need—a proper studio, exposure, financial backing. You've got a gift, Milo, and it deserves to be shared."
Milo's heart raced, excitement mingling with disbelief. This was beyond anything he could have imagined. A legitimate offer, from someone as influential as Henry Kingsley? It was the kind of opportunity he'd only dreamed about.
But while Milo's face showed pure amazement, Victor's expression hardened, his jaw clenching. He seemed almost frozen in place, his gaze fixed intently on his father. Finally, unable to contain himself, he interjected, his voice cold and controlled. "Father, can I speak to you in private? Now."
Henry's smile faded, but he nodded calmly, glancing at Milo with an apologetic expression. "Of course, Victor. Please excuse us for a moment, Milo."
Milo nodded, still slightly dazed from Henry's offer, unable to find his words.
Henry rose, and Victor followed suit, his movements tense and precise. Milo watched them leave, his excitement mingling with a new undercurrent of anxiety. Had he done something wrong?
In the hallway, Victor led his father toward the study, where he immediately shut the door behind them, his frustration boiling over. "What were you thinking, offering Milo a contract without discussing it with me first?" His tone was sharp, laced with barely controlled anger. "I don't understand what you see in him."
Henry's brow furrowed slightly, though he remained composed, as if used to Victor's outbursts. "Victor, I see potential in him. He's talented, passionate… and he's a good person."
Victor scoffed, crossing his arms. "That doesn't mean we need to bring him into our world. We don't even know if he can handle it, or if he's truly serious about a long-term commitment. You're always so quick to trust people, Father, but you have no idea who he really is."
Henry sighed, resting his hands on the edge of his desk as he looked his son in the eyes. "You think I'm rushing into this, don't you?"
Victor didn't respond, but his expression said everything. Henry continued, "Son, I know you're not fond of him. I can see it in the way you look at him. But sometimes, you have to look past your own judgments. Milo's young, yes, but that doesn't mean he isn't serious about his work."
Victor clenched his jaw. "It's not just that. I don't trust him. He's… unpredictable, and he doesn't belong here. Our world, our company—it's not for people like him."
Henry gave his son a gentle but firm look. "Victor, you see things so… rigidly. Life doesn't work that way. Sometimes, people surprise you. And sometimes, it's worth giving them a chance to prove themselves."
Victor's frustration only seemed to intensify, but Henry took a step closer, softening his tone. "I know you worry. You have a protective instinct, and I respect that. But you also need to open your mind a bit. I see something in Milo—a spark. And I know it's worth nurturing."
Victor turned away, running a hand through his hair, clearly agitated. "Why are you so intent on this, Father? Why Milo? Of all the artists you've encountered, why him?"
Henry's voice softened. "Because I see a bit of myself in him. And perhaps, somewhere beneath all that anger, you do too."
Victor let out a frustrated sigh, but he seemed to be wavering. His father's words had a way of seeping into his defenses, leaving him unable to fully reject the idea.
Henry took advantage of the silence, his voice becoming more persuasive. "Victor, I'm not asking you to befriend him. I only want you to give him a fair chance. You don't have to like him, but at least let him show us what he's capable of."
Victor remained silent, staring at the wall, his fists clenched. After a long, tense moment, he finally let out a low, resigned sigh. "Fine," he muttered, his tone reluctant. "But don't expect me to play nice."
A faint smile touched Henry's lips, as if he'd won a quiet victory. "That's all I ask. Just… give him a chance, Victor."
Victor shook his head, his expression unreadable, before finally turning back to his father. "We'll see if he's as good as you think he is," he muttered. Without another word, he strode out of the room, leaving Henry watching him with a mix of pride and hope.
***
Back in the dining room, Milo was still trying to process what had happened, his mind racing with the possibilities that Henry's offer had opened up. A small smile crept onto his lips as he considered what this could mean for his future, his career… everything he'd worked so hard for.
But as Victor re-entered the room, Milo's excitement faltered. The cold, unyielding look in Victor's eyes sent a chill down his spine. It was clear that Victor had not been convinced easily—and that whatever grudging acceptance he'd managed to gain was a far cry from approval.
Henry followed shortly after, his demeanor calm and collected. He offered Milo a reassuring smile, as though to smooth over any tension lingering from the private conversation.
"So, Milo," Henry said warmly, breaking the silence, "I hope you'll take some time to consider the offer. We'd be thrilled to work with you, and I'm certain it'll be a rewarding experience."
Milo swallowed, glancing briefly at Victor before returning his gaze to Henry. "Thank you, Henry. I… I can't believe this opportunity. It means a lot."
Henry nodded, his smile gentle. "Take all the time you need. Just know that our door is open."
Victor's eyes narrowed slightly, but he remained silent, his expression unreadable. Milo felt his pulse quicken under Victor's intense gaze, but he forced himself to meet it, unwilling to show any sign of intimidation.
As they wrapped up the evening, Milo left the Kingsley estate with a sense of excitement tinged with a hint of foreboding. He knew that Henry's offer was a dream come true, but Victor's hostility loomed in the back of his mind, casting a shadow over his newfound hope.
He walked down the driveway, his mind a whirlwind of emotions. The opportunity of a lifetime had been handed to him—but it had also placed him in the crosshairs of Victor Kingsley's resentment.
And somehow, Milo couldn't shake the feeling that this was only the beginning.