“Julian should not be discussing company business with my estranged brother,” I said.
“I am your brother, Ethan,” Owen said, shifting his weight again, his eyes dark under the porch light. “I still own five percent of the family shares. I have a legal right to know if you are losing your grip on our father’s legacy.”
“I am managing the business exactly as our father intended,” I said. “I do not need your interference, nor do I need your advice on how to handle the board.”
“You are letting people rob you blind because you are too proud to ask for help,” Owen said, his face hardening as he took a step up the stairs. “Look at yourself. You can barely stand.”
“Leave, Owen,” I said, my voice flat.
Owen stared at me for several seconds, his jaw clenched, waiting for me to say something else, to offer some explanation.
“Fine,” he said, turning back toward his truck. “But do not say I did not try to warn you when the board votes you out.”
