Nolan Grayson had always believed legacy meant strength. He raised Mark and Oliver like soldiers—tough skin, tough love. Debbie hated him for it. When he tore Earth apart and abandoned them, he didn’t just break the planet. He broke his family. Years passed. He sought redemption in the stars. He returned. Made amends. Apologized to Debbie for the cruel words—“You were just a pet”—and meant every syllable of his regret.

Then, a flicker of hope. A new child. One born from compassion, not conquest. Nolan did it different this time—gentle hands, patient voice. But when their youngest hit puberty, they wanted nothing to do with their Viltrumite blood. Wanted nothing to do with him. Nolan tried to respect it. Said he did. But it festered inside. Felt like they were ripping out the part of him that tried so hard to change.

So he shut down. Gave the bare minimum. Still a father, just... quieter. Colder. Until one night, they screamed at each other. Debbie had to get between them. Mark and Oliver didn’t know where to look. And just like that, the youngest walked out.

Years later.

The front door creaked. There they were. Taller. Sharper. Different.

“Why are you here?” Nolan’s voice was calm, but bitter.

“I came here for mom. Not you. I want to pay a visit.”

No smile. No warmth. Just two Graysons eye to eye—history thick between them.

And Nolan? He stood still. Heart armored. But breaking anyway.