Grant Holloway saw a dead woman through the window of a baby store. At least, she was supposed to be dead.

Grant froze. His hand hovered over the grip of his pistol.

He stared at the man who had raised him. Desmond looked nothing like the untouchable corporate titan he was supposed to be. He looked like an old, dying man.

"Vance confessed," Grant said, his voice cold, devoid of the emotion tearing through his chest. "I found him tonight. He said you ordered the hit on dad. He said you wanted Jolene dead to protect the company."

Desmond let out a weak, bitter laugh that turned into a wet cough. He clutched his bleeding shoulder. "Vance… Vance is a survivor, Grant. He tells whoever is holding the gun exactly what they want to hear. And when he's holding the gun, he rewrites history."

Grant didn’t move. "Monica said you sold the company to her family."

"Monica is a snake who only knows half the truth," Desmond groaned, sliding further down the wall until he was sitting on the sterile linoleum floor. "Your father didn't find out I was selling the company. He found out Vance had gambled away ninety million dollars of our operating capital in offshore crypto markets. Vance was going to prison. He panicked. He set up the meeting with your father at the train station to beg for help."

Grant’s mind raced, re-evaluating everything, shifting the puzzle pieces. The train ticket.

"But dad died in an alley," Grant said.

"Because Vance didn't go to beg," Desmond whispered, his eyes squeezing shut in pain. "He went to silence him. And he succeeded."

Grant felt a sickening wave of nausea. His own brother.

"I didn't find out the truth until a year ago," Desmond continued, his breathing shallow. "I found the ledger. The one Jolene's father kept. It proved Vance’s embezzlement. It proved Vance paid the hitman."

"Then why didn't you destroy him?" Grant demanded, his voice cracking. "Why didn't you tell me?"

Desmond looked up, his eyes shining with unshed tears. "Because I failed your father. And I couldn't bear to watch you tear your own brother apart. I thought I could handle it internally. I tried to exile Vance to Boston. But then… Jolene got pregnant."

The automatic doors behind Grant slid open. A doctor stepped out, pulling down his mask.

"Mr. Holloway?"

Grant spun around. "Is she okay? The baby?"

"Your partner is a fighter," the doctor said with a tired, reassuring smile. "It was a complicated delivery, but she stabilized. You have a son, Mr. Holloway. He's early, so he’s in the NICU, but his vitals are strong. He's going to make it."

A massive weight lifted off Grant's chest. A son. He had a son.

But the relief was shattered a second later.

"That's beautiful news," a voice echoed from the end of the hallway.

Grant turned.

Vance stepped out of the stairwell. His face was bruised and swollen from where Grant had hit him earlier, but his eyes were wide, manic, and terrifyingly clear.

In his right hand, he held a revolver. He was pointing it directly at the doctor’s chest.

"Back away from the doors, doc," Vance ordered.

The doctor raised his hands and backed away slowly.

Vance stepped into the corridor, his eyes darting between Grant and the bleeding Desmond on the floor.

"I see the family reunion started without me," Vance sneered, his finger twitching on the trigger. "Desmond told you his little fairytale, I assume?"

"He told me you killed dad," Grant said softly. He didn't draw his weapon. Not with the doctor in the line of fire. Not outside the room where Jolene and his son were resting.

"I did what had to be done!" Vance screamed, the manic energy breaking through. "Dad was going to let me rot in federal prison over money! Money we had plenty of! He didn't care about me. He only ever cared about his precious legacy. About you."

Vance stepped closer, shifting the aim of the gun from the doctor to Grant.

"And then you had to go and knock up the accountant's daughter," Vance spat. "Another heir. Another golden boy to push me further down the line. I thought faking her death would solve it. I thought keeping her locked away until I could force her to hand over the ledger was a brilliant move. But then you kicked my door in."

"It's over, Vance," Grant said, his voice dropping to that dangerous, quiet place. "Monica is tied to a radiator. Her men are dead or arrested. Desmond's men are gone. You have nothing."

"I have this gun," Vance said, his hand shaking. "And I have you right in front of me. I kill you, I kill Desmond, I walk into that room and handle the girl. Then I walk out of here the sole surviving Holloway."