The council head's voice cuts through tension like a dull blade.

"Ladies and gentlemen, tonight we honor a legacy that runs as deep as Eden's foundations themselves. Please welcome to the stage, one of the founding family members of this town, Mr. Scott Sullivan."

The room's applause swells like an approaching tide, but Nate stands immobile. Lydia's fingers dig into his arm like she's afraid one of them might shatter. Scott takes the stage like a king claiming his throne, his smile as practiced as a surgeon's hands and twice as cutting.

"Thank you, Joe." Scott's voice fills the room with practiced authority. "When my grandfather first came to Eden, this was nothing but untamed coastline and big dreams. He saw potential where others saw wilderness. My father expanded that vision, turning those dreams into reality, brick by brick." He pauses, words settling like seeds in fertile soil. His eyes sweep the crowd with calculated warmth.

"Tonight, as I accept this recognition, I'm reminded that the Sullivan name isn't just a family legacy—it's Eden's legacy. We've shaped this town, its economy, and its very identity. But legacies aren't meant to be preserved in amber. They're meant to evolve, to grow stronger with each generation."

The way he looks at Nate feels less like a father's gaze and more like a predator marking territory. Each word about legacy drips with honey-coated venom.

"Which is why I'm proud to announce that our five-year plan for this town is to expand. And I'm especially proud to announce that my brilliant son, Jacob, will be joining The Sullivan Group this year." He gestures to Jake, who rises with practiced grace. "Come up here, son."

Jake joins him on stage like a prince being crowned, and the air grows thick as concrete.

"Jacob understands what it means to be a Sullivan. He knows that our name carries not just privilege, but responsibility. Under my guidance, he'll learn to shoulder the weight of this legacy, to carry Eden into a future worthy of its past."

Scott's words about Jake's future leadership detonate across Nate's features in microscopic flinches that only someone who knows him would catch.

"Legacy is everything," Scott continues, words slithering like smoke. "It's about making the right choices. Some of us know how to honor that, and for others—" His lips twist into something that resembles a smile the way a knife resembles a spoon. "Well, let's just say not everyone is suited to the responsibility."

The barb finds its mark with surgical precision. Nate's mask fractures for a heartbeat, revealing raw devastation before walls slam back into place.

"This is bad," I breathe.