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The car rolled onto the long gravel driveway, kicking up dust as it neared Connor's so━━called ranch. Isabelle glanced out the window, her expression flat as she took in the landscape. Dry, endless land stretched in every direction, a few scattered trees barely breaking the monotony.

"This isn't a fucking ranch," she muttered, adjusting her sunglasses. "It's a goddamn desert."

Charles smiled slightly, his gaze flicking to her. "Wouldn't say that to Connor, though."

"I will say that to Connor."

The car pulled up in front of the main house━━large, well-maintained, but sitting in the middle of nowhere, looking less like a retreat and more like a place people came to disappear.

The driver opened her door, and Isabelle stepped out, brushing a stray piece of lint from her coat. A few people were already outside━━Marcia, Shiv, Tom, Connor, and, further back, Roman, who looked like he was already regretting being here.

She felt her father's presence before she saw him. Logan was standing just off to the side, watching, but she didn't spare him a glance. Instead, she moved past him smoothly, going straight for Marcia.

"Isabelle," Marcia greeted with her usual controlled warmth, leaning in to kiss both her cheeks. "How was the drive?"

"Long," Isabelle said simply, stepping back.

Charles offered a polite nod to Marcia before moving to shake Connor's hand. Isabelle, meanwhile, let her eyes skim the rest of the group.

Shiv met her gaze, stepping forward. "Well, well. Look who showed up."

"I make great life choices," Isabelle muttered dryly, pressing a quick kiss to her sister's cheek. Then she turned to Connor. "Con."

Connor beamed, spreading his arms. "Welcome to my fabulous healing retreat."

Roman, appearing just behind him, snorted. "Yeah, super healing. Nothing like a forced reconciliation before Dad picks who gets publicly executed next."

Isabelle smirked slightly before tilting her head toward him. "Kendall?"

Roman made a face, rubbing the back of his neck. "Uh, yeah, no. He's not coming. Probably off somewhere licking his wounds, looking for God, waiting for Dad to forgive him, I don't fucking know. I don't track him like some lost fucking dog."

She hummed, nodding. She figured as much.

As they started toward the house, Isabelle fell in step behind Shiv, who was scrolling through her phone as they walked.

Then a message popped up on Shiv's screen.

Nate: I want you.

Isabelle cringed immediately. Like a physical reaction. The kind where her whole body just rejected the moment.

Roman caught it instantly. "Jesus Christ, what?"

She didn't answer, just gave a small, subtle nod toward Shiv's phone.

Roman glanced over, saw the name, and instantly grinned. "Oh, fuck me. That's still happening?"

"I guess," Isabelle muttered, still shaking off the secondhand disgust.

Roman let out a low whistle, shaking his head. "God, that's rough. Man's out here texting like a teenage boy in heat."

Isabelle looked at him weirdly. "You say that like you've never done the same."

Roman scoffed. "Uh, yeah, but mine's charming. Hers is just-" he mimed a shudder, "-cringe."

Shiv must have sensed them talking because she glanced back. "What?"

"Nothing," Roman said quickly, too entertained. Isabelle just smiled tightly and kept walking.

Inside, the room was set up like some forced attempt at intimacy━━chairs arranged as if this was some wholesome family gathering instead of a desperate attempt to keep Logan's reign intact. Isabelle took in the setup, exhaling slowly.

"So. Therapy."

Roman grinned. "Yeah. I give it thirty minutes before dad loses his fucking mind."

Isabelle slipped off her coat, draping it over the back of a chair. "Meh━━I'll take the under."

Roman let out a sharp laugh before eyeing her. "Alright, what's your plan? Full participation? Low-energy nodding? Or just sit in the corner and let the daddy issues wash over you like a fine fucking wine?"

"I'm going to take a nap," she said, completely unfazed while ignoring him.

Roman scoffed. "Oh, well, obviously. Why solve your problems when you can just sleep through them?"

"Exactly," she said, already turning toward the hallway. "Try not to get kicked out before I wake up, though."

Roman muttered something under his breath, but she was already gone.


--------------------


The whole family therapy retreat was already laughable, but at least it had some entertainment value. Roman, slouched in his chair, nursed his drink like he was at the premiere of a psychological thriller, eyes locked on Shiv and Tom's passive ━━aggressive whisper ━━fight across the room.

He nudged Charles with his elbow. "Alright. Place your bets. How long before she straight-up tells him he's worthless?"

Charles barely hesitated. "Two minutes. Maybe less."

Roman raised an eyebrow. "Oh, I see, you're going bold. I respect it."

They both took a sip of their drinks, watching as Tom tried to string together a coherent argument, failing miserably. Then Shiv landed a verbal kill shot-Roman didn't hear what it was, but Tom flinched.

Charles exhaled, shaking his head. "...And there it is."

Roman grinned. "Oh! It's like watching a nature documentary. 'Observe as the female asserts dominance over her weaker mate...'"

Charles smirked. "You know, if he had any sense of self-preservation, he'd leave."

Roman scoffed. "Hah! Yeah. But come on. It's Tom. He's like a golden retriever that loves getting kicked."

Charles hummed, tilting his glass slightly. "Some people have a thing for humiliation."

Roman made a vague gesture. "Sure. But like, at some point, you gotta wonder━━does he like it, or is he just clinically fucking stupid?"

Charles smirked, considering. "Could be both."

Roman nodded, taking another sip. "Yeah. I mean, that tracks."

They clinked their glasses.

The moment settled, and Roman, never one to leave a silence untouched, turned to Charles again. "Okay, serious...shitty question."

Charles arched an eyebrow. "Another one?"

"Yeah, well, I'm a curious guy," Roman muttered. "So. Why do women hate me?"

Charles didn't hesitate. "Probably because you can't fuck."

Roman blinked.

His smirk didn't disappear completely, but it faltered━━just for a second. His fingers tightened slightly around his glass before he forced out a scoff. "Wow. Okay. Fuck you, first of all."

Charles was entirely unbothered.

Roman huffed, shifting in his seat. "Jesus. You didn't even ease into that one. Just went straight for the butt, huh?"

Charles shrugged. "You wanted an answer."

Roman scoffed, shaking his head. "Alright, well, fucking noted. I'll just go ahead and unexist now, since apparently, I'm the human equivalent of a fucking...vibrator with dead batteries."

Charles chuckled, lifting his glass. "Cheers to self-awareness."

Roman flipped him off, taking a long sip before exhaling sharply. "Okay, new question." He adjusted his grip on his drink. "Why do women love you?"

Charles replied. "Because, I don't know...I don't ask them why they don't."

Roman pulled a face. "Oh, fuck you. That's some self-help book bullshit."

Charles smirked slightly. "Or maybe, just maybe, I don't start every conversation like it's a stand-up set about my own failings."

Roman rolled his eyes. "Jesus. That's deep. And annoying." Charles didn't argue.

Roman swirled his drink, thinking. "Alright, so. Isabelle."

Charles lifted an eyebrow. "What about her?"

Roman gave him a look. "Oh, come on. You've got, what? The Isabelle package? The whole inexplicably married to a Roy experience? Tell me. What's it actually like?"

Charles sipped his drink. "She's Isabelle."

Roman let out a dry laugh. "Oh my fuckin'━━ That's such a wife answer." Charles just shrugged.

Roman narrowed his eyes. "Okay, but, like. Is it-" he gestured vaguely. "What's the word? Manageable?"

Charles exhaled, turning to Rome. "You think I'm managing her?"

Roman scoffed. "I mean, somebody has to, right?"

Charles shaked his head slightly. "She's not something to manage."

Roman let that sit for a second, tapping his fingers against his glass. "Okay. So, like... How do you not go fucking insane?"

Charles sighed, stretching slightly like he was actually considering it. "I don't fight her on shit that doesn't matter. And when it does matter, I don't act like...no━━I just let her win. Sometimes."

Roman snorted. "Wow. That's romantic."

Charles raised his brows. "Well, you asked."

Roman shook his head. "No, but, like, really. You don't lose it? Ever?"

Charles hummed, thinking. "No. I mean, sure, we argue. I get pissed, she gets pissed. But she's not a mystery, Roman. You just have to listen."

Roman made a face. "Oh, fuck me. Okay, that's where you lose me."

Charles chuckled. "I know."

Roman scoffed. "You know, I kinda hate that you're not miserable."

Charles nodded. "Meh."

Roman swirled the last of his drink, exhaling. "Yeah, well, good luck with that. I'm fucking done with women."

Charles raised an eyebrow. "Oh?"

"Yeah," Roman muttered, rubbing his temple. "Grace and I are done. Officially."

Charles studied him for a second, taking another slow sip of his drink. "And how do you feel about that?"

Roman exhaled sharply, looking anywhere but at him. "Like I just got unplugged from something."

Charles hummed. "So, you feel like shit."

Roman scowled. "No. I feel liberated."

Charles was unbothered. "Right."

"I do!" Roman said, defensive now. "It's not like she was the one, okay? I mean, yeah, we had fun, and yeah, she put up with my shit longer than most people do, but like-" he huffed. "Whatever. It was gonna end anyway."

Charles nodded slowly. "Sure."

Roman scoffed. "Wow. Thanks for the fucking support."

Charles took his drink. "Anytime."

Roman let out a sharp breath, shaking his head. "Alright. That's it. We're getting wasted."

Charles chuckled. "You do that. I'm pacing myself."

Roman waved him off. "Pacing yourself? Jesus Christ. You are married."

Charles just smirked. "And you are not."

Roman groaned. "Yeah, yeah, rub it the fuck in." He downed the rest of his drink, shaking his head. "Fcking Isabelle. She would marry someone with a moral compass."

Charles just smiled, finishing his drink at his own pace. "You should try it sometime."

Roman snorted. "What, marriage?"

"No." Charles smirked. "The moral compass."

Roman scoffed. "Yeah, no thanks. I'd rather die."


--------------------


The Roys and Dr. Alan walked into the church across from the house, taking their seats on the couch while Alan settled into a chair facing them. Logan sat slightly apart, his presence commanding, even in silence.

Alan leaned forward, his hands resting on his lap. "Okay. Great. So, welcome, welcome. I like to begin these things with a little prayer." He cleared his throat before reciting, "'They fuck you up, your mom and dad. They do not mean to, but they do. They fill you up with faults they had and add some extra just for you.'"

The siblings exchanged quick glances, but no one reacted.

"Now, I always think that's an interesting way to start these things, but what I'd like to know is how you feel you would like to start this. So... who's going to tell us why we are here today?"

All the siblings looked at each other while remaining quiet.

Logan exhaled sharply, shaking his head. "Come on. Does no one want to take a pop at the champ?"

Connor shifted in his seat. "Can I just say-"

Alan nodded. "Sure."

Connor sat up slightly, pointing at Rome. "I never touched Roman inappropriately. If he says I did, I didn't."

Roman pressed his fingers against his lips, trying to contain his amusement, while Isabelle glanced away, exhaling lightly.

Shiv sighed. "Glad to clear that up."

Connor gestured vaguely. "He was gonna make a horrible joke, so I'm preempting."

Alan nodded. "Okay. Okay. But I think the best way to start this-"

Logan cut in. "Uh. I'll start if you'd like."

Alan motioned for him to go ahead.

Logan leaned forward slightly, his hands resting on his knees. "Um... everything I've done in my life, I've done for my children. I know I've made mistakes, but, um, I've always tried to do the best by them... because... they mean everything to me."

The siblings exchanged confused looks, some with narrowed eyes, others with thinly veiled amusement.

Alan nodded. "Okay. That was great."

Logan leaned back. "Thank you."

Connor offered a small nod. "Well, that's nice."

"It is nice," Roman added, dragging out the words slightly.

"Yeah, sure," Isabelle muttered, her tone dry.

"Agreed," Shiv said, though she didn't look convinced.

Alan looked around. "So, what do we feel about what we just heard here?"

"I mean, I hear it. I hear it," Roman said, tilting his head slightly.

Connor hummed. "Uh-huh. Big words. Good words."

"I'm still... processing," Shiv said, choosing her words carefully.

"I mean, this is... wow," Isabelle added, crossing her arms.

Alan turned to Logan. "Logan, do you realize how much power you wield in this room?"

Logan frowned slightly. "What do you mean?"

Roman said. "He has a lot of power everywhere."

Alan continued. "What I guess I'm asking is, how do you feel about what you just said?"

Logan sighed, rubbing his hands together. "Look, everything I've done in my life I've done for my children. I know I've made mistakes-"

"Uh, Dad," Isabelle interrupted. "You can't just use the one sentence. It's pretty fucking lame, and honestly, it's starting to get old."

Logan's eyes flicked toward her, his expression unreadable. "But that's how I feel, Isabelle. I can make this shit up if you like."

"Sounds like you already are," Shiv muttered.

Alan turned to Shiv. "Shiv?"

Shiv exhaled sharply. "Look, I'm... I guess where I'm coming from is I'm having a hard time diving in because, honestly, I'm wondering why he brought us here in the first place. I mean, was it for this photo opportunity?"

Logan shook his head. "No, no, of course not. I wouldn't have brought you here for a photo and an interview-"

Shiv sat up straighter. "Sorry. Excuse me? There's an interview now?"

"Well, I told you, photo and-"

"No, you didn't," Isabelle and Roman said at the same time.

"What, so this is essentially a publicity event?" Shiv pressed.

"It's optional. There won't be questions," Logan answered.

"This is not okay. I have a publicist for this stuff. Fuck. Con, did you know about this?"

"I think the picture is okay. I think it's nice," Connor said, his voice calm, detached.

"Rome?" Shiv asked, glancing at him.

"I don't mind," Roman said with a shrug.

"Pussy," Isabelle muttered under her breath.

Alan straightened slightly. "Logan, have you thought about the possibility that your children are actually scared of you?"

Logan scoffed. "Oh, fuck off. After what they've done to me? Fuck off!"

All the siblings looked at each other again but said nothing. Logan pulled his phone out of his pocket, ignoring everyone.

Alan sighed. "Can we go back to our agreement where we put aside our cell phones and just focus on what's going on in this room? Can we do that?"

Logan didn't look up. "I'm trying to buy a number of television stations."

"Okay, but could you do it later?" Alan asked.

Logan finally looked up. "Fine. Tell me what more you want, and I'll dance the dance."

"I guess what I want is for you to tell us how you're feeling?"

"I feel... I need to check my emails."

"That's not a feeling, Dad," Isabelle said, her patience wearing thin.

"Maybe don't deny Dad's feelings, Iz," Connor added.

"He's just wasting our time," Isabelle muttered.

Shiv crossed her arms. "I turned down something huge to be here, and you're gonna tank it."

Logan barely looked up. "I'm doing therapy."

"I don't think you are," Roman said dryly.

"Now you're denying their feelings, Dad," Connor pointed out.

Shiv shook her head. "Look, what I think we should really have a conversation about is the fact that Kendall's not here. And that's because there are reports of him running around taking drugs. And I, for one, don't know where those have come from."

Logan didn't hesitate. "You don't have to worry about that."

"What does that mean?" Shiv asked.

Isabelle, who had been quiet for the last few minutes, started gathering her things, standing up.

Alan glanced at her. "What are you doing?"

"Leaving."

"Why?"

"A, because I can, and B, because I'm not about to sit here while my dad is bitching and moaning about how he did everything for us when he can't even talk about his son." She put on her coat and glanced toward Logan. "So... farewell."

Logan didn't stop her. None of them did. She walked out, her heels clicking against the floor, and shut the door behind her while they resumed the seance.


--------------------


Golden light cut through the half-closed blinds, stretching long across the wooden floors, catching the edge of the bed where Isabelle lay sprawled out, her phone in hand, scrolling with half-interest. The house was quiet now. The therapy session had ended, but something about the silence wasn't peaceful. It was the kind of quiet that settled after something, like the dust had yet to fully settle.

Charles sat at the edge of the bed, rolling a chess piece between his fingers. A knight. His thumb skimmed the carved details as he turned it over in his palm, his mind somewhere else.

"Your dad," he said idly, still staring at the piece. "What would he be?"

Izzy barely moved, her eyes still half on her phone. "King, obviously."

Charles hummed, tilting the knight slightly. "And you?"

She smiled, turning onto her side, resting her chin against her palm. "Bigger than a pawn, smaller than a king."

"A queen, then."

She gave a small shrug. "Maybe. Depends on the game."

A beat. Charles finally set the piece down on the nightstand, his fingers lingering there for a moment before he leaned back slightly, stretching out his legs. "And what am I?"

Izzy watched him, considering. Her expression shifted, her smirk playful but sharp. "Depends on the day."

Charles scoffed lightly. "Alright. But what about right now?"

She pretended to think, drawing it out just enough to make him wait. "You're a knight━━But not like Roman."

Charles raised an eyebrow. "Oh?"

She stretched her arms over her head, sighing. "Roman's a knight because he moves in weird, unpredictable ways, but he always ends up exactly where he's supposed to. You're a knight because you don't move in straight lines. You play smart. You see around corners."

Charles tapped his fingers against his knee. "And that makes me different how?"

"You're quiet about it." She let her hand drop onto her stomach, watching him. "Roman flails. You don't."

Charles nodded, filing that away before continuing. "And Shiv?"

Izzy voice was laced with amusement. "A rook."

Charles turned his head slightly, interested. "Why?"

"Moves straight, no deviation, thinks that makes her dangerous," Izzy said simply. "It's not bad, but it's predictable. She follows the path that's already there."

Charles exhaled through his nose, nodding along. "Connor?"

"Pawn." The answer came fast, sharp, like she didn't even have to think about it.

Charles chuckled. "Harsh."

Izzy rolled onto her back, staring at the ceiling. "Yeah, well. Some pawns make it to the other side of the board."

Charles gave a small hum of amusement. "And Ken?"

Izzy was quiet for a beat longer this time. Then: "Bishop."

Charles glanced at her. "Not a king?"

She shook her head. "Kendall wants to be a king. But he's not. He moves diagonally, thinks he's cutting across the board in ways no one sees coming, but he's still playing within the rules. He's still stuck inside the lines."

Charles hummed. "And the twins?"

Izzy exhaled, tilting her head. "They don't play yet."

Charles glanced at her again, but she didn't elaborate. He let it go.

She stretched, dismissing the conversation, already shifting onto her stomach, her head resting against her arm. Charles stayed where he was, watching her.

After a moment, she lifted her head just enough to glance at him. "You thinking about your next move, knight?"

Charles smirked slightly, but he didn't say anything.

Izzy moved slowly, crawling toward him, wrapping her arms around his shoulders from behind, pressing small, lazy kisses along his neck. Charles let her, exhaling softly, his fingers resting against her forearm.

After a moment, he shifted, voice casual. "What's with you recently?"

Izzy lifted her head just enough to glance at him. "What?"

Charles turned slightly, facing her more directly. "You've been━━I don't know. More."

Izzy smirked. "More?"

Charles arched an eyebrow. "More."

She nipped at his jaw, her voice low. "What, I can't fuck my husband?"

His fingers curled slightly against her wrist. "Didn't say that."

She grinned against his skin. "I'm just...ovulating."

Charles let out a short laugh, shaking his head slightly. "Right. That's why."

Izzy still on his lap, her knees bracketing his thighs. "Mm-hmm."

Charles' hands moved up her back, his grip firm, dragging her closer. "You always get like this when you're ovulating?"

She smirked against his mouth. "You complaining?"

Charles pressed a slow kiss to her lips, his hands slipping beneath her shirt. "Not at all."

Izzy kissed him fully this time, slow, deliberate, her hands threading into his hair. Charles pulled her closer. On the desk across the room, his phone buzzed once. Then again.

Izzy didn't seem to notice. Charles did.

His hands didn't stop moving, but his gaze flicked toward it. The screen was face down.

Izzy caught it, her lips curving against his. "Who was that?"

Charles was smooth, easy, lifting her. "Just stuff about the hotel."

She smirked, running her fingers through his hair. "You can't run the hotels from here, Charles. That's not allowed."

He smiled against her lips. "Really?"

She matched his smile. "Yeah."

Charles shifted, standing up with her still wrapped around him. "Then I should fire someone, shouldn't I?"

She hummed, not really paying attention anymore. He pressed a kiss to her temple, setting her back onto the bed.

Charles walked toward the bathroom, stretching his arms as he went. Izzy barely looked up, already pulling the blankets over herself, stretching.

As soon as he was out of her line of sight, he pulled his phone from his pocket, read the message, and typed something back before heading downstairs for dinner.





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