home

search

60. Happy Little Accident (Past Jack)

  Jacob sat back in his chair, fingers lightly steepled, his expression a carefully curated mask of nonchalance. Confident. Casual. A man completely in control. A performance worthy of an Oscar if they gave those out for "Best Actor in a Corporate Negotiation."

  But Jack? Jack saw the tells.

  The subtle way Jacob's fingers tensed, the fraction-of-a-second delay before each nod, the quiet hum in his throat that wasn't quite agreement, but uncertain hope. Hope that Jack would just go along with it. That this intrusion into his perfect life could be managed, contained, and controlled.

  Jack let the silence stretch, his gaze never leaving his brother. Doppelganger. Changeling. Living reminder that he had given up everything, not once but twice.

  Then, finally, he made his decision. Like a general committing to a battle plan after surveying the field.

  "I have a counter offer," he said smoothly, picking up another drink.

  The taste was too sweet. One of those high-fructose, nostalgia-laden beverages that people swore by. The kind that probably contained enough sugar to give a hummingbird diabetes.

  Jack grimaced slightly, but… it was growing on him. Like this world itself -artificial, overwhelming, but undeniably addictive.

  He remembered the cold, clear water that flowed from the crystal springs in the Forest of Whispers, liquid so pure it seemed to carry memories of the mountains it had traveled from. He'd spent three months there once, learning patience from trees that measured time in centuries. Now here he was, drinking liquid candy while negotiating with his duplicate for scraps of his former life.

  He glanced at the can. "Open Happiness."

  Something about that phrase nagged at him. A memory trying to surface through the interference of two worlds.

  A marketing ploy. A promise. A lie. The perfect encapsulation of capitalism -selling the feeling without delivering the substance.

  He pushed the thought aside and leaned forward.

  "I'm going to take you up on your offer."

  Jacob nodded as if he'd already expected this. The chess master anticipating a move.

  But Jacob wasn't playing chess. He was playing checkers on a chess board, understanding the surface movements but missing the deeper strategies. Jack had played against a sultry giantess for his life -and won. Compared to that, this negotiation was child's play.

  "But…" Jack's voice dropped slightly. "Anytime I need anything -anything at all- you're going to be available. You're going to drop everything. It doesn't matter if you're in the middle of a billion-dollar deal, a meeting with world leaders, or even taking a damn nap. You answer when I call."

  The words fell between them with the quiet weight of a mithril blade being unsheathed -not threatening, exactly, but undeniably dangerous.

  Jacob's nod was too smooth, too eager. Jack watched his face, saw how quickly he was adapting. Like water flowing around an obstacle, immediately finding a new path forward.

  Jack matched his nod, mirroring him. The predator once again matching his prey’s movements.

  It was an effective technique in the courtly battles of intrigue. By mimicking Jacob's mannerisms, he created a false sense of rapport, a subliminal signal that they were in agreement even as Jack was subtly rewriting the terms.

  "I'll take your money. Our money," Jack corrected. "I'll stay out of sight, let you run the business -the family business. I might pop in occasionally, you know…" He smirked. "To stir the pot. Make sure you're on your toes. Keep things interesting.”

  The image of corporate drones doing double-takes as he strolled through the office, their brains short-circuiting as they struggled to reconcile two identical CEOs, brought a genuine smile to his face.

  Jacob chuckled lightly, though there was no humor in it.

  Jack had heard more authentic laughter from stone gargoyles. At least they didn't pretend to find things amusing that weren't. In the Court of Whispers, false laughter was considered a grave insult, punishable by having one's voice stolen for a year and a day. Jacob would have been permanently mute within a week.

  Jack's smirk faded slightly.

  "But otherwise," he continued, "you do yours, I do mine."

  Jacob's nod was slower this time. More considered. Like he was finally starting to understand the gravity of what he was agreeing to.

  This wasn't just a business arrangement. This was a pact. And they both knew the weight of a pact once forged.

  Jack let the pause hang before adding, "And I'll want you to stay out of my business."

  Jacob tilted his head, curious now. The shark sensing an unexpected opportunity.

  Jack could almost see the calculations running behind his eyes -risk assessments, cost-benefit analyses, contingency plans. Always looking for the angle, the leverage, the advantage.

  This content has been unlawfully taken from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.

  Jack exhaled, rolling the can between his fingers.

  The cool surface grounded him, a tactile reminder of where -and when- he was. A simple can of soda that was strangely comforting in its mundanity.

  “Then what will you do?” Jacob asked.

  "I don't know what I'm going to do yet," Jack admitted. "I'm honestly unsure of what my place is here."

  It was the clearest truth he had spoken tonight.

  He remembered the Hunt of Endless Night, where he'd hidden his exhaustion for three days, knowing that the moment he showed fatigue would be the moment the pack turned on him. Here, admitting uncertainty felt both dangerous and oddly liberating.

  The silence stretched between them, and for a moment, Jacob almost looked sympathetic.

  Almost.

  Jack leaned back.

  "Maybe I'll go find the rest of my family," he mused, watching Jacob's reaction carefully. "Stop by and say hi. 'Hey Mom, have I got a story to tell you. Remember that incident back when I was a kid?’”

  Jacob immediately shook his head, his face tightening like someone had just suggested releasing company secrets to the public.

  "No, no, you can't do that," he said sharply.

  The mask slipped completely, revealing the panic beneath. This wasn't the calculated response of a CEO but the visceral fear of a man whose carefully constructed reality was threatening to unravel.

  Jack lifted a brow. There it was. The reaction he'd been fishing for. The tell that revealed just how carefully Jacob had constructed his life.

  In his time away, Jacob hadn't just borrowed Jack's identity -he'd erased it, replaced it, rewritten history itself to remove any trace of the original. The implications were both impressive and disturbing. How much power did it take to make a person disappear so completely that even their family believed the replacement was real?

  "That would be… confusing," Jacob added lamely, trying to regain composure.

  The understatement of the century. "Confusing" was what happened when you ordered a latte and got tea. This would be existentially devastating, like watching the laws of physics being casually ignored at Sunday brunch.

  Jack nodded slowly. "True." He shrugged. "I wouldn’t want to ruin their golden years… I'll let that go." A small concession in the greater game they were playing. And it didn’t mean he couldn’t still stop in and reconnect. They were his parents after all.

  Jacob visibly relaxed.

  Jack let him.

  Then, he dropped the final piece of the puzzle.

  "You can have my life," Jack continued smoothly. "And I'll be an employee. Works his own hours. On salary. Lives his own life."

  The words sounded reasonable, almost generous. The surface ripple concealing the depth of the current beneath.

  Jacob's smirk returned. "You want an executive position? VP of Otherworldly Affairs, perhaps?"

  The joke fell flat between them, an awkward attempt at levity that only highlighted how little Jacob understood about where Jack had been.

  Jack tilted his head, considering.

  "Nah. Something better." He smiled. "An undetermined job title. No responsibilities. Full benefits. Health, dental, paid vacations, a massive salary. The kind of job everyone dreams of but no one actually has -except nepotism hires and corporate ghosts."

  Jacob gave an easy laugh. "That's it? That's what you want?"

  His relief was palpable. The CEO who'd expected to negotiate away half his kingdom suddenly being asked for a pittance. A bargain he could easily afford.

  Jack leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees, close enough to see the faint reflection of himself in his brother's eyes.

  "And…" He let it hang in the air. The unsaid word expanding to fill the entire room.

  Jack watched as Jacob’s mind began to fill in the silence with the worst case scenarios.

  Jacob's smile faltered.

  Like a crack appearing in a dam, small but catastrophic in its implications. The first visible sign that the structure was about to fail.

  "Should anything happen to you, obviously," Jack continued, voice silk-smooth, "we'll adjust your will so that should anything occur, I will be your sole inheritor."

  The words landed like a velvet-wrapped hammer -gentle in delivery but devastating in impact. Not a threat, exactly, but a reminder that Jack's return had fundamentally altered the balance of power. That nothing, not even death, would free Jacob from the consequences of his borrowed life.

  Jacob's face went completely still. The corporate mask slipping just enough to reveal genuine alarm.

  It was the look of a man who suddenly realized he wasn't negotiating terms -he was receiving them. That the power he'd thought he held was illusory, a temporary loan that could be called in at any moment.

  "After all," Jack added, his smile widening, "what's mine is yours... and what's yours… is mine."

  ∞

  The color drained from Jacob's face faster than a vampire's victim at an all-you-can-drink buffet.

  There it was.

  Jack could practically hear the calculations running behind his brother's eyes -the mental spreadsheet of risk assessment crashing like Windows 95 on startup. The corporate emperor suddenly realizing his throne was built on quicksand.

  The risk. The power shift. The cosmic joke that Jack's existence represented.

  A moment ago, Jacob had been the king at the table, the master of his glass kingdom, the CEO whose voice made markets tremble.

  Now?

  Now he wasn't so sure. The puppet master finding his own strings.

  Jack pressed on, savoring the moment like the last bite of a perfect meal.

  "See, the good news is," he said, tilting his head slightly, voice smooth as aged whiskey, "I've already created a will, and the necessary insurance policies."

  Jacob froze. Not the casual pause of a businessman considering options, but the primal stillness of prey that's just spotted a predator.

  Jack took another slow sip of his drink, then smirked.

  "Had it distributed too. Legal, official. Signed."

  Jacob swore under his breath, the kind of creative profanity that would make sailors blush and demons take notes.

  "It's amazing what you can accomplish when people think you're one of the richest men in the world," Jack continued, voice pleasantly casual, like he was discussing the weather instead of a corporate coup. "The great part is, you matched me so well that my childhood signature is still valid."

  Jacob's hands curled into fists, knuckles white with tension. The fa?ade of corporate invincibility crumbling like a sandcastle at high tide.

  Jack let the moment stretch, elastic and dangerous.

  “How?” Jacob practically choked on the words.

  "I had just enough coin left to make it all nice and tidy. I used everything. The liquid funds, the precious metals.” He exhaled, a dragon releasing smoke. "Everything but the memories of Dad, I put in play."

  Jacob exhaled sharply, running a hand down his face -the universal gesture of a man watching his life's work dangle over the abyss.

  Jack leaned in just slightly, like a conductor preparing for the crescendo.

  "So…" He let the word roll off his tongue, a smooth pebble skipping across still water.

  Jacob stared at him, a man watching his own execution.

  "Should anything happen," Jack said quietly, words like velvet over steel. "Should you piss me off... Should you fail to deliver on your promises..."

  He smiled, but there was nothing friendly in it. It was the smile of something ancient and predatory, wearing human skin as a costume.

  "I'll step in."

  Jacob didn't move. Didn't blink. Barely breathed.

  "And you?" Jack continued, voice soft but razor-sharp. "You'll have a happy little accident."

  


      
  • Followers go up? Boom, bonus chapter.


  •   
  • Favorites go up? Ka-ching, bonus chapter.


  •   
  • Reviews? Cue the confetti -bonus chapter and a shoutout, because I care.


  •   
  • Ratings go up? You guessed it -bonus chapter. (And I might even crack a smile. Maybe.)


  •   


Recommended Popular Novels