Filthy Little Games

Ch. 5: The Brown Sugar

QUINTON

The scent of Cuban cigars and Sherry fills the air as I step into the study, a space that reeks of my childhood. Some things never change. My father leans back into the lounger, smoke slipping past his lips as he hands William the cigar. Their gazes snap toward me, and my father arches a brow.

"Where have you been all day?" he asks, motioning for me to join them. "It's been utter chaos in here. The decorator is a complete moron. Remind me to never use them again."

The weight of the Nuit du Péché invitational keys sit heavy in my pocket. I'm fully aware that Emery doesn't like surprises, but every fiber of my being tells me she'll love this. That she'll be open to the idea. That she'll thrive there. She'll be a fucking star.

"Christmas gifts," I say casually, pouring myself a scotch. I glance at my brother and smirk. "Unfortunately, there seems to be a universal shortage of humility. Perhaps next year."

William snorts, adjusting the diamond cufflinks of his tailor-made suit. "Simply because I choose not to hide my wealth, doesn't mean I'm not humble."

"Your wealth?" I take a sip of my scotch, savoring the smoky warmth that washes over my senses. "And what is it that you do for a living again, dear brother?" I cock my head. "Last time I checked, living off your inheritance is hardly a career."

William rolls his eyes. "Try and shame me all you want, Q, but I enjoy my life. I can't fathom the idea of waking up at dawn every day and putting on a monkey suit."

My father scoffs. "In order to have the honor of wearing a monkey suit, you mustn't have a monkey brain." William dramatically grasps his chest. "You should not be proud of your ineptitude, William. It is very unbecoming."

William lets out an animated sigh. "Yes, yes, I'm aware that I'm a disappointment, Father. Unfortunately, not everyone was born to be a doctor or a lawyer. Some of us were born to spend money, not earn it."

Father snorts, clicking his tongue. "I suppose that's a skill in itself, isn't it? Plus—" He flashes me a sly grin. "If William wasn't a complete freeloader, who'd we ridicule during the holidays?"

William chuckles. "As long the cash keeps flowing, I will gladly be your punching bag, Father." He opens his arms, bashing his fist against his chest. "Go on now, I can take it."

Father playfully winds up his arm, ready to bop William in the stomach when my phone vibrates. Reaching into my breast pocket, my eyes widen at the news notification on the screen. It can't be. With a swift flick of my thumb, I open the article titled: Prominent Hedge Fund Manager Found Dead in East River, and read.

New York City — The financial world was rocked today as the body of Vincent Wentz, a prominent NYC hedge fund manager, was discovered in the East River. The circumstances surrounding his death have left many baffled, and speculations are rife as investigators work tirelessly to uncover what led to his untimely demise.

Wentz, 42, was widely known for his lucrative ventures in the hedge fund industry. His firm, Wentz Capital Management, managed billions of dollars in assets, and he was celebrated for his shrewd investments that often yielded substantial returns. However, recent controversies surrounding his involvement with a dramatic price hike of the diabetes drug Diazenix have raised eyebrows and sparked public outrage.

Two years ago, Wentz's firm secured the manufacturing license for Diazenix from NovaTech Pharmaceuticals, a decision that allowed them to significantly raise the price of the life-saving drug by a staggering 934%. The move was met with widespread condemnation from patient advocacy groups, medical professionals, and the general public, as many patients struggled to afford the medication that was essential for managing their condition.