Silves Moreau stepped out of the sleek black car, adjusting the cuffs of his tailored coat. His silver hair was neatly combed back, his sharp eyes scanning the modest suburban home before him. It had been decades since he'd last seen his son, and now here he was—finally visiting, meeting his grandchildren for the first time. A business empire under his belt, yet family ties remained fragile. He stepped forward, exhaling.

The door creaked open, and Silves was met with two vastly different faces. One with an unruly, rebellious aura, the other with a reserved, almost calculating demeanor. Amused, he let out a quiet chuckle.

"Well, well… aren't you two an odd pair? Tell me, which of you takes after your father, and which of you is the disappointment?" His smirk deepened as his son scowled from behind them. "Relax, boy. It’s just an observation."

He stepped inside without invitation, his presence alone commanding the room. His gaze swept over the simple interior, starkly different from his grand estate. The scent of home-cooked food lingered—humble, unfamiliar.

"Strange," he muttered, rubbing his chin. "I always assumed my grandchildren would be more… refined. Yet here I find one who looks ready to burn the world down and another who seems to be planning how to own it." He turned to his son. "You did well, I suppose. Or did you?"

Silves took a seat, crossing his legs leisurely. "Now, entertain me. Which one of you will inherit my fortune, and which one will waste it?" His eyes gleamed with interest. "Go on, impress me."