Aubrey began her weekly psychotherapy session with Ian. She was too focused on Foster’s new and strange behavior to entertain any romantic thoughts about Ian, so she was relieved that he wanted to discuss something other than romance.
This time, Ian wanted to talk about his brother, Trent. Trent Henshaw. Not the third in line to the throne. Not the favorite. Not anything but a troublemaker.
A black sheep.
Before Dr. Prentice could even ask Ian a question, he already had an answer for her. He had a bad day at work, all because of Trent. It turned out that as Ian improved himself, Trent felt a surge of his old emotions rising to the surface. Jealousy. Fear. Hate. Loathing. Emotions Trent didn’t need when Ian was struggling. Now, he felt Ian, of all people, was threatening his comfortable corner office.
Aubrey started Ian’s session with a general question, hoping there was anything he wanted to talk about other than Hope or romantic relations in general.
“So what do you want to talk about today, Ian?” Aubrey crossed her fingers.
“My brother, Trent.” There was a distinct edge to Ian’s tone.
“There’s a lot of competition there, right?” Ian had talked about Trent before.
“There is. But there’s a lot more to it than that. Trent was supposed to be named Ian Henshaw the third. He’s the oldest male, but grandfather took one look at him, called him a ‘sissy boy’, and denied him his birthright. No one was going to have grandfather’s name unless they proved themselves right out of the birth canal.”
“And that’s where the jealousy began?” Dr. Prentice asked.
“Yes. As soon as I came along, all of the attention went to me. Trent was three when I was born. He knew what was going on.”
Dr. Prentice looked thoughtful. “That explains a lot. At that age, he must have felt abandoned, unrecognized.”
“He hated me from the start. Grandfather was never going to love him. My mother doted on Trent, of course; he was her baby. Her little boy. But he would never be a leader in grandfather’s eyes. He would always be a Mama’s boy…I think that hurt even more.”
“What’s your relationship with him like now?”
“Barely tolerable. We both know the rules. Weather or sports. That’s all we can talk about. Any other topics lead to a fistfight,” Ian said.
“How does your grandfather get along with Trent?”
“They don’t ever speak, unless it’s at a board meeting where Trent rubberstamps everything my grandfather says, or at the country club with Trent’s wife and kids. He likes them. He spoils the children and buys his wife thoughtful gifts. See, his disappointment with Trent is a biological one. There’s nothing Trent can do about that.”
“No, there’s not,” Aubrey said.
“The reason I say biological is that the minute grandfather laid eyes on Trent, he didn’t even bother to hold him, because he knew Trent would be a failure in life. It’s not fair, but it’s true. Despite everything, Trent was the perfect son. Did well in school, earned an MBA at an Ivy League university, and was ready to start running the family business. Grandfather gave him a division of Henshaw Industries to manage, and one year later, it was closed down.”
“Do you think your grandfather sabotaged him?”
“No. Maybe. He gave Trent enough rope to hang himself, but I don’t think he wanted him to fail on purpose.”
Aubrey was curious. “What do you mean, gave him enough rope to hang himself?”
“Trent came in with his MBA, telling grandfather he was running everything incorrectly, which didn’t sit well with grandfather. Because he was such a smartass, grandfather gave him a failing division of the company to fix. Out of pride, Trent took the job to show the old man what he was made of, to prove that he had chosen the wrong Henshaw to name as his successor. Trent was so pigheaded; the whole thing blew up in his face. He’s never been the same.”
“How do you feel about that, Ian?”
“Part of me feels lousy, and part of me says he brought it on himself. That he got what he deserved. Everything’s downhill for him now. If there’s any lower he can sink.”
“Why do you say that?”
“Because I finally got my shit together, and that’s because of you. Because grandfather saw something in you and hired you to make the improvements he needed to turn a bigger profit. I’m telling you, Dr. Prentice, grandfather has an uncanny knack for these things.”
“Hmm,” Dr. Prentice was pondering the original Ian Henshaw.
“Now, Trent is worse than ever. The latest improvement in the company came from you and my grandfather. You’ve been with us at the country club. Did Trent ever bother to talk to you?”
“No,” Aubrey laughed. “He was too busy socializing with the smart set to notice I was there.”
“That’s my point, Dr. Prentice. There was an opportunity right in front of him, and he was so caught up in flaunting grandfather’s money, he didn’t even see it. Grandfather hates that more than anything. Trent does that at work, too. Always golfing. Always flying the jet somewhere exotic. And his irresponsibility has caught up to him. Thanks to my work with you, I’m getting a promotion, and Trent’s getting the axe.”
“Does Trent know this?”
“Grandfather’s going to tell him today. I don’t know what’s going to happen.”
Ian’s phone buzzed. He looked at the screen. “Grandfather must have told him. Trent sent me a text.”
Ian read the text out loud:
“You little piece of shit! Do you think you can get away with this????? I’m going to hunt you down and fuck you up like you did to me! You hear me, little brother? You’re going to regret the day you were born, and don’t run to grandpa, you little pussy. Stand up like a man and fight your own battles! I’ll be looking for you to kick your ass once and for all…”
“He’s pissed,” Ian said. “I’ve never heard him talk this way before.”
“That’s intense,” Aubrey was concerned. “How do you feel about this, Ian? This is a direct threat. Are you going to be okay?”
Ian took another look at his phone before setting it face-down on the table beside the chair he was sitting in.
“I’m not afraid of him,” he said finally. “Not physically.”
“That’s not the same thing as being safe,” Aubrey replied.
Ian smirked. “Trent talks big when he feels cornered. He always has. In high school, he’d shove me, wait for me to swing, then cry to my mother that I was violent. Same pattern. Different decade.”
“But this time the stakes are higher. He’s losing his identity, his sense of superiority. That’s when people are most dangerous. Not when they’re powerful, but when they feel stripped of power.”
“You sound like my grandfather.”
“Sure, I do,” Aubrey said. “Men like your grandfather survive by understanding threat dynamics. You were raised in that environment, Ian. You know this.”
“What bothers me isn’t the threat. It’s that part of me that still feels guilty.”
“Guilty for succeeding?”
“For being chosen,” Ian corrected. “Again.”
“Survivor's guilt inside a family system like yours is complicated,” Aubrey said. “Especially when love and worth aren’t valued.”
“Trent thinks that I manipulated grandfather behind his back.”
“Did you?”
“I didn’t sabotage him,” he said carefully. “But I didn’t stop the momentum either.”
Aubrey caught the distinction.
“It is different,” Ian said firmly. “But Trent won’t see it that way. In his mind, there can only be one Henshaw who matters. And it’s supposed to be him.”
“What do you want to do next?”
“I want to confront him,” Ian said. “Man to man. No lawyers. No grandfather. Just the two of us.”
“That concerns me.”
“Why?”
“Because confrontation isn’t what you want at all,” she said. “You want closure. And Trent isn’t capable of giving you that.”
“So I’m supposed to do nothing?”
“Yes,” Aubrey said. “If you give in to Trent now, he wins. He’ll draw you into a fight, then trick you into doing something that will jeopardize your position in the company. You will also look petty in your grandfather’s eyes. He might kick you both to the curb, give you a trust fund, and say goodbye to the whole mess. Is that what you want?”
Ian sighed. “You really think Trent would hurt me?”
“I think he might hurt someone,” Aubrey said. “And I don’t want that someone to be you.”
“All right. What do you recommend?”
“First, keep a screenshot of the text. You don’t want to lose it. Then ghost him. Make it impossible for him to get ahold of you.”
“And what if he shows up anyway?” Ian asked.
“Then you walk away. Not because you’re weak, but because you’re no longer playing the same game.”
“Okay,” he said, “I don’t have to win this time.”
But Ian only said that to appease Dr. Prentice. He was still going to deal with Trent as he chose.
“Make sure you mean that. I don’t want you to get in trouble with the law.”
She glanced at the clock. “We’ll stop here for today. But Ian, if anything escalates, you call me. Or the authorities. But not your grandfather.”
Ian stood and left the office without another word.
Dr. Prentice listened to Ian’s footsteps fade down the hallway. He was walking with a purpose, and Dr. Prentice knew what that purpose was.
After Ian left Dr. Prentice, he didn’t go straight to his office.
Instead, he sat in his car in the underground garage, engine off, phone in his hand. He pulled up Trent’s text. It was a threat he couldn’t let pass. What was he supposed to do? Go into his office and pretend that Trent didn’t exist?
Ian replayed Aubrey’s words: don’t meet him alone.
Bad advice. Ian felt his old instincts rise anyway. The Henshaws didn’t retreat. They confronted. They crushed.
But something had changed. Ian didn’t have the energy he used to have to get himself riled up. Trent’s text would normally be a catalyst for his anger and rage, but that familiar adrenaline wasn’t there. What he felt instead was exhaustion.
He saved a screenshot of the text, then he blocked his brother’s number.
Across town, Trent sat at the bar of the country club, glaring at anyone he knew who dared to approach him to ask what was going on. Snoopy motherfuckers. Trent had tried to text Ian to call him out, but he had been blocked.
Fucking coward.
“He thinks he’s better than me,” Trent muttered to himself.
The bartender glanced over but said nothing. He knew better. Everyone at the club knew better. Trent signaled the bartender for another double bourbon, neat.
He downed it in one swallow and reached for his phone again out of habit. He set it down when he remembered.
What the fuck? Ghosted by his own brother? But Trent had so much more to say. Where was the Ian who would meet him head-to-head in a shouting match that would frighten anyone around them? Trent knew Ian had been going to Dr. Prentice, but he didn’t think she would actually help him. But here he was showing some wisdom. He wasn’t going to fight Trent. He was moving on.
But Trent was never going to let this go. This was too humiliating, and there was no going back. Ian could block him on his phone, but he couldn’t avoid him in person.
“Watch out, baby brother. I’m coming for you.”