Building The Strongest Family

The private dining room of Osborn Restaurant was a feast for the senses, illuminated by the soft glow of crystal chandeliers.

Their light danced off gilded mirrors and polished silver, creating an atmosphere that felt both luxurious and intimate.

At the heart of it all was a stunning black marble table, veined with gold and adorned with dishes that resembled exquisite works of art: seared scallops delicately perched on edible flowers, truffle-infused wagyu sliced so thin it was nearly translucent, and towers of caviar balanced atop ice sculptures shaped like elegant swans.

Arthur sat at the head of the table, swirling a glass of vibrant red wine, worth more than most people earn in a month.

To his left, Liz attempted to balance a spoon on her nose while Ashley captured the moment on her holophone.

Sophia leaned toward Billy, whispering with wide eyes, "Do all family dinners involve this much... chaos?"

Billy sighed. "You have no idea. This is just a small scene!"

Ashley, growing bored with Liz's antics, turned her attention to Billy.

"So, Mr. Graduate," she said playfully twirling her fork like a baton, "what's next? Gonna revolutionize the business world? Take over a small country? Or just mooch off Arthur's bank accounts for a few decades?"

Before Billy could respond...

"He's joining Osborn Capital's mergers division," Arthur interjected smoothly as he sipped his wine. "Starts Monday."

The clatter of silverware against porcelain filled the air with tension.

Sophia blinked in disbelief. "Wait... what?"

Billy's jaw tightened as he shot Arthur an incredulous look. "Big brother..."

"It's already arranged," Arthur replied firmly. His tone brooked no argument. "You'll shadow Uncle Philip for six months before taking over the Eastern Dominion portfolio."

A heavy silence settled over the table.

Then...

"That's bullshit."

All eyes snapped to Sophia.

She held her ground defiantly. "Billy just spent four years studying business because he wanted to, not because he was forced into some... family blueprint."

Ashley let out an impressed whistle. "Oh wow, she's feisty!"

Arthur set his glass down deliberately as if weighing his words carefully. "It's not a blueprint; it's responsibility, rules set within our family."

"It sounds more like a cage," Sophia shot back.

Liz sensed the rising tension and chimed in cheerfully, "I think cages are cool! Like tiger cages or…"

"Not helping, Liz," Billy muttered under his breath.

Ashley leaned back in her chair and swirled her wine thoughtfully. "Look, Sophia," she said sharply but honestly, "no Osborn gets to 'follow their dreams.' Not for at least twenty years."

Sophia frowned incredulously. "That's insane."

"That's tradition," Arthur corrected matter-of-factly.

"That's control," Billy added.

Arthur's gaze darted toward his brother, a mixture of frustration and resolve in his eyes. "You knew this was coming. I made it clear last year: as long as you're an Osborn, your path is either business or politics for the next decade."

Ashley scoffed, rolling her eyes. "Knowing doesn't mean accepting."

"Please," she continued, her voice dripping with sarcasm. "You got off easy! Apart from busying studying business and finance, I was also juggling painting classes on the side. I dreamed of being a painter, but look where that got me! Do you have any idea how many times I've faced threats of disinheritance?"

Liz's eyes widened in surprise. "Wait,...you're a painter?!"

"Not anymore," Ashley replied nonchalantly, popping a grape into her mouth like it was no big deal. "Thanks to family duty and this lovely cousin of mine." She gestured toward Arthur with mock exasperation.

Sophia glanced between them, bewildered. "So what? You all just... gave up?"

"We adapted," Arthur stated firmly.

"We survived," Ashley added quietly.

Billy stared at his plate, lost in thought. "We didn't have a choice."

The silence that followed hung thick in the air, heavy enough to choke on.

Then Billy's voice broke through the tension, barely above a whisper: "What if I said no?"

Arthur's grip tightened around his glass as he met Billy's gaze head-on. "Then you'd be the first."

Sophia instinctively reached for Billy's hand under the table, offering silent support. "You don't have to…"

"Yes, he does," Arthur interjected sharply. "Because this family doesn't get to be selfish, not when we're one misstep away from losing everything."

For once, Liz remained quiet.

Ashley let out a sharp breath. "Dramatic? Sure. But not wrong."

Billy looked up at Arthur again, uncertainty clouding his features. "And what if I can't do it?"

Arthur's expression softened just a fraction, an acknowledgment of shared burdens and expectations.

"Then you'll learn, just like I did… just like Ashley did… just like Oscar, George, and everyone else in this family."

Those words lingered in the air, a weighty reminder of unspoken histories and sacrifices made in the name of being an Osborn.

Sensing the gravity of their conversation, and realizing she'd stumbled into something much deeper than anticipated, Sophia squeezed Billy's hand gently and tried to lighten the mood.

"Well," she said with a playful grin, "at least the food is good!"

Ashley burst into laughter at that moment. "Oh my gosh! I really like her!"

Just like that, the tension shattered like glass hitting tile.

As dessert made its grand entrance, a magnificent, towering chocolate soufflé that Liz eagerly declared as her half, our conversation took a delightful turn toward lighter topics.

They found themselves diving into Ashley's latest romantic misadventure (let's just say it was a classic case of "doomed from the start"), while Liz animatedly recounted her ongoing battle with her algebra teacher who knew math could be so dramatic?

And then there was Sophia, who had everyone in stitches with her cringe-worthy tale of how she once set the kitchen ablaze while attempting to make toast.

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The rooftop garden of Le Ciel Doré was quiet after dinner, the hum of the city a distant murmur beneath the soft glow of bioluminescent vines winding through the terrace railings.

Sophia leaned against the balcony, her fingers tracing the condensation on her glass of sparkling elderflower tonic. The cool night air carried the faintest hint of jasmine from the restaurant's vertical gardens.

Billy found her there ten minutes after excusing himself from the table, his dress shoes clicking against the glass tiles.

He'd loosened his tie, the first two buttons of his shirt undone, as if he'd been wrestling with something unseen.