"Brother!" Little Matt shouted. "Please get slow!"

A nine-year-old boy with braces was padeling so hard but could not keep up with his brother. The supporters on either side of his bicycle were forbidding him from going swiftly. Moreover, his father was holding the bicycle from the back, which made him even slower. "Can you please leave it? Go hold on to Big Brandon's bicycle if you wish. You're making me a tortoise, and now he'll bully me!"

As a man who had put forth a lot of effort to support his family and create a pleasant life, Sir Eric exuded quiet confidence. His clothes, which were usually well-crafted and spotless but never flashy, represented his accomplishment. He wore elegant casual wear or tailored suits. His face displayed the lines of experience, expressing both worry and laughter, and his hair, which was beginning to gray somewhat at the temples, gave him a distinguished look. A well-defined jawline, expressive eyes, and a straight nose slightly softened by a well-groomed stubble or beard were the strong yet delicate features of his face. His piercing blue eyes were kind and serious, with laugh lines at the corners that betrayed years of happiness and laughter with his family.

Right then, Brandon surpassed him with a teasing howl, squashing a squirrel that was rushing towards the tree with a mouthful of nuts. Matt almost puked seeing that, but Bran did not care at all. His laugh became louder.

"It is your first day." Sir Eric Barrel said, holding even tighter.

"The first day of the third week!" Matt said it in an emphatic tone. "I can try it alone. Please let me try once." His request made Sir Eric loosen the grip, but not for more than a second, and that time even tighter.

"You must allow him once, if I'm not mistaken." Mr. Raymond said. He was the most trusted man that Sir Eric had beside him in his business. "The boys had been doing practice for weeks. If I were in your place, I would have even removed the supporters and called out 'Faster!' to energize them."

"I cannot risk it." He spoke without looking at Raymond.

"You have to, someday, and it would be advisable to make it early." Raymond's gentle words reached his ears. Sir Eric glanced at that man's countenance and nodded slowly in agreement. He looked at Matt and retracted his hands with trembling fingers. "There you go," he whispered. Matt took a deep breath and paddled further. On and on, he went. Sir Eric found his son growing smaller as he went farther. The enthusiasm in Matt was increasing rapidly, as was his breathing rate and his pace.

"Catch me if you can, you braced tortoise!" Brandon taunted as he passed by Matt after completing a whole round. "You have traveled less than even ten meters. What a shame!"

"I don't want to learn anything with him!" Matt, in rage, kicked the bicycle down and left the area with thumping steps.

"You should not do this to your younger brother, Bran," Sir Eric said sternly.

"Alright, dad, I'm sorry." Brandon replied. "But this will make him learn quicker. He will never be able to learn when you are always after him."

"He needs it. I also did this to you when you were of that age."

"Oh! I don't remember. Sorry, but I don't think you ever loved me as you have always."

Eric interrupted, "No, Brandon, please don't start it again. I don't want to get upset now." He turned to go.

"And now you are running away from facing the truth. Accept it!" Brandon said in a way that he had forgotten who stood before him.

"Listen, lad, you are my older son. I love you the most. You are going to be the heir to that place where I am right now. All these properties will be yours. You'll be handed over all the business stuff, which I am handling now. I want you to be eligible for that." Every organ of Eric's body knew that he was lying.

"You are expecting so much from me but you never thought of what I ever expected from you. The unwavering fatherly affection you show Matt but never show me. You know, sometimes I think I'm a burden on you." He paused, and after putting the bicycle on the stand, he said without looking up, "Or maybe you are a burden on me."

"Brandon! You have no right to say that. He is your real brother and I'm your-"

"Huh..." He chuckled. "Oh, father, you'll never understand." He left.

Meanwhile, outside the park, Matt just swung hard at the coppice gate. "Stop stalking me, Raymond. Go to father."

"You should not get frustrated with small things. He loves you a lot."

"My father or my brother?"

"They both adore you."

Matt looked at him for a few moments and questioned, "Do you have an older brother, Sir Raymond?"

"No, little master."

"Huh..." He chuckled. "Oh, old Raymond, you'll never understand." He left.

Sir Eric's property was a clear and visible result of what he used to bring in from his various businesses, ranging from bidding properties or antique items to renting lands in Edinburgh. He had a sprawling property in Ravelston, an area in Edinburgh. Expanding around two thousand five hundred square meters. An endless variety of trees and shrubs covered the large garden in front of the villa. The chirping of various birds and the squeaking of squirrels were entirely audible at dawn. A staff of thirteen gardeners oversaw that enormous garden. The white-washed mansion standing at the center was around a thousand meters square. That house seemed no less than a monument. A four-story palace, painted white with a tint of blue. The windows were uncountable from outside, as were the rooms from inside. The corridors in it were just like labyrinths leading nowhere.

Four men entered the main gate, and in front of them, a lady in her late thirties passed by, riding on a horse. She was Lady Lynda Rosewood, Eric's wife, a lady with blonde hair. She looked like Eric's imaginary daughter in her pale white gown and a magenta hat. She had remarkable beauty and understated elegance for her age. She appeared unusually young for a mother, frequently giving the impression that she was much younger. She wore her thick, glossy hair in a way that accentuated her youthful features, framing her face in gentle waves. Her complexion was clear, with only a tinge of color in her cheeks, and her skin was smooth and luminous, with a natural radiance that looked unspoiled by time. Her taste for delicate jewelry and high-end purses gave her accessories an unobtrusive yet elegant touch that elevated her look. She was a devoted mother, deeply involved in her children's lives, yet she managed to balance her responsibilities with her own pursuits, whether it was her hobbies or social engagements. "I think it has been only a week since I started learning horse riding. Now that you can see how much better I am, what do you say, Sir Raymond?" she said.

She was indeed getting better at her equestrian skills. It seemed like the horse had known her for years and was correctly following all the commands. Podrick, their servant, was helping her with that while whistling in a weird tune that was quite high-pitched, filled with undulating loudness, and faded away with a terrible ending. No one liked the whistle he used to make every time. People even told him to stop. He stopped it, but not for more than two minutes.

"You're right, my lady. You ride very well, much better than-" He looked at Matt and then stopped.

"Again started! I'm sick of this now!" Matt blurted. "And Podrick, I'm sick of your whistling. Please don't make me angry at you too." He shouted and ran in.

"What happened to him?" Lady Lynda asked.

"Perhaps we should better get inside, my lady. It's too sunny out here. Not good for you." Sir Eric spoke calmly.

"Oh yes, sure. Podrick, please take the horse back to the stable and send Lily. It's enough for today." They went inside while Podrick went to inform Lily, Lynda's handmaiden, that she had called for her.

Sir Eric was in his room, going through his businesses' accounts from last month, when Lady Lynda entered. "What is wrong with Matt? He hasn't shown his face since he came." She enquired.

"Yeah, he is a bit troubled since today's practice. You know Brandon."

"Oh, come on, it has become daily stuff. They are just kids. Bran always finds a way to tease his little brother." She shared it in a joking way.

He said nothing but stared blankly at his family picture hung on the wall, and that's when his smile faded. Lynda said, "You need not worry about Matt. He is our little boy, and-"

"I'm not worried about Matt, dear. What bothers me is Bran and his unusual behavior, which is getting weirder with time." A little trace of worry became superficial on her face.

Sir Eric didn't need to narrate more. She understood what he wanted to say because that had also become daily stuff.

"Don't worry, we will all be fine. I think you should give some time to him too." That's all she said or simply managed to say.

"Yeah, I will."

*  *  *

The next morning of that family had begun by Matt's scream, when he had fallen down by Brandon's kick to his chest. It was just their karate session but Bran had always taken it as a squabble. Both brothers, in white, showed their moves to each other, dodging, but for sure, Brandon was swifter. The third round began. Sir Eric, Lady Lynda, Matt, Brandon, Sir Raymond, and even their pet dog, Moco, knew the consequences of that fight. No one was paying any attention at that time. Bran kept his chops on Matt's chest until he kicked him to end it all. It was the eighth time Matt screamed out of pain, and the eleventh time they all clapped for Brandon. "Want to do it again?" Bran said to Matt, snapping his fingers at him. Matt said nothing and left the area. Surely, he was shameful, but it was surely not his fault. It was his destiny.

Since birth, Bran had been stronger than Matt, and he was becoming stronger. Bran's room was filled with gym equipment. He was nine years older than Matt, and at the age of sixteen, he started getting packs on his abdomen. He did a lot of workouts to shape him up, leading his body to an athlete figure, and was least concerned about academics. Academics were everything for Matt. Since birth, he has been skinny, just like a walking skeleton. If Bran had a wrestler look, then Matt was like a nerd with thick, small spectacles. So, that's for sure, Matt could never surpass his big, stronger brother in any activity that demands strength and was bullied every time for his weakness. Eric always tried to make Matt stand against Bran because he wanted Matt to surpass Bran in all the skills involving mind or strength. He had always been rooting for Matt, hoping that one day he would surpass his expectations.

That night, after dinner, the same hot scenario was created. Bran was getting on his father for every small cause, and Lady Lynda, Raymond, and Matt were silently watching it. When Sir Eric was sick of giving answers to his silly torture questions, he gave up and turned towards his room. Then Brandon said, "See! You are again running away from the truth. If that is not so, face me and answer all of my questions. I don't want to live this way. I'm tired of you."

"So am I! I'm tired of this attitude of yours. I don't know in which hands I am going to give my world, and if it is you, then it is ruined."

Lady Lynda closed her eyes and was listening with sorrow but Sir Raymond could not take that anymore and shouted at Bran. Then Bran had gone too far not to make someone mad. "Stay out of our family business, old man. You only need to wag your tail on our commands. If I am going to be the heir to this business, first of all, I'm going to kick you out of the-"

"Brandon!" The duration of Sir Eric's violent coughing fit was evidence of just how loud he had yelled. Lady Lynda rushed to help him with a glass of water. His eyes were red, and veins bulged out of his neck. He was barely able to speak after that, but what he said echoed in everyone's ears. "I will never let you have my world from this day on. You are nothing to me, and-"

"Now you prize this man above me, above your son!" Bran said.

"Yes, I am, because he never talked to me like this and he is more trustworthy than you. I'll make sure that you will never put your hands on my property."

Brandon smirked. "Careful father, you know very well that we are that kind of family whose destiny is planned in a very unusual way."

No sooner did he say that than he scattered the cutlery placed on the table, poured flaky powdered drugs there, and leaned and inhaled deeply. Everyone was gazing at him. His phone rang with the ringtone of 'All Type of Drugs' by Young Thug. He picked it up and rushed out of the room, intoxicated. Lynda prevented herself from fainting, and at that time, Matt puked right on his dish.