Anton was more than just a brother to Harold; he’d been both brother and father. Harold had never resisted him—until now.
"I won’t!" Harold shouted, his voice trembling with defiance. "Brother, I’m 30 years old, not a child. You can't trample on my dignity and control my life!"
Anton’s response was calm, cutting through the air like a blade. "Everything you have, I gave you."
Their parents had died when Anton was only eighteen, leaving him to raise Harold, who had been just three at the time. Anton carried the weight of their family for years, a burden Harold could never fully repay.
But this time, Harold stood firm. "Then take it all back, if you must."
Anton paused, the Buddhist beads stilling in his hand as he lifted his gaze slightly. "Are you certain?"