"So, little bread," Vincent began, folding his hands atop the mahogany desk, "Sebastian informed us that you have something urgent to discuss." Straight to the point, as always—the man didn't just walk; he commanded conversations.
Foca nodded, already bracing himself. "Before I start… I beg all of you—please let me finish my piece first. No interrupting. Promise me."He stared at each sibling in turn, squinting like a suspicious cat."Otherwise, I swear I will kick you three out."
"Promise," the older siblings chorused immediately, hands up like well-behaved delinquents.
Foca inhaled deeply and began.
"I've decided to build my own entertainment company."
Every eyebrow in the room nudged upward—but they kept their promise and stayed quiet.
"As you all know, since I was a kid, I've always wanted to work in the arts. I just never knew how. I've professionally competed in dance, singing, instruments, composition, choreography, lyric writing… but even then, I was wandering. I loved everything, yet nothing felt like the path."
He paused, letting the weight settle.
"Then last night, I had a moment of… brilliant epiphany. I realized—why cage myself to one thing, when there's a way for me to do all the things I love?"
He turned to Luca.
"And for context, I want you to hear the story that led me to this decision. Luca will tell it."
Luca looked at him like he had just been handed a live grenade.
He elbowed Foca.
Foca elbowed him back—harder, with big sibling energy despite being the youngest in his family.
Luca cleared his throat, resigned. The poor man was battling stress, intimidation, and the crushing awareness that five gorgeous, powerful well respected people were staring at him like he was tonight's main course.
But he spoke—calm, clear, professional. His voice slipped into its naturally smooth, honey-toned flow as he recounted everything that happened the night before. No theatrics, no exaggeration—just clean narrative, spoken in a tone so pleasant the entire room unconsciously leaned in.
When Luca wrapped up, Foca seamlessly picked up the thread.
"After everything last night, I realized something important… I never truly wanted to be the one under the spotlight."
His voice softened.
"What I've always wanted was to create art that lets other people shine. And building my own entertainment company would let me stay in the background while helping deserving talent be seen and appreciated for who they are."
His gaze drifted to Luca and Tuesday on either side of him.
"Luca and Tuesday have already agreed to help me build this company. Now… I want to ask for your blessings."
He drew a breath.
"I genuinely hope you'll support me in this."
When he finished, the room fell into complete silence.
Not cold.
Not judgmental.
Just… weighted. Processing.
And then—
click
The door opened.
Sebastian entered with perfect timing, pushing a trolley lined with polished silver, steaming drinks, and delicate pastries. The tension in the room softened instantly—because of course Sebastian could calm an earthquake simply by existing.
"Refreshments," he announced, voice serene as a prayer.
"Yes, please," Leonor said in her serene, moonlight-soft voice.
Sebastian began distributing each person's drink and pastries with the same precision he'd use diffusing a bomb. Not a clink, not a breath, not a whisper. The silence was so thick you could cut it with one of the silver pastry knives.
And that silence… was suffocating Foca.
His knuckles were turning white as he clenched his fists on his lap. Luca immediately reached over and grabbed one hand. Tuesday grabbed the other like she was defusing an emotional meltdown.
The contact grounded him instantly.
He mouthed thank you, giving both their hands a small squeeze—soft, grateful, letting them know he felt safe again.
Only once Sebastian placed the last porcelain teacup did Vincent finally speak.
"Sebastian," Vincent said, tone smooth but laced with command, "call the family lawyers. Tell them to spare no effort in helping my son build his dream company. I expect excellent résumés. No errors. Yes?"
"Right away, sir." Sebastian bowed, then glided out of the room like a butler assassin.
Foca blinked.
"…Wait—does that mean—"
"Yes, son," Vincent said with a warm flare in his eyes. "We fully support you."
"FUCK yeah!"
Dead silence.
Then Foca flinched, slapping a hand over his mouth. "I—I mean—heck! Heck yes!"
The whole room erupted into laughter—parents, siblings, Luca, Tuesday—everyone delighted at the youngest's slip.
"But, son—"
Ah yes.
There it was.
The cosmic BUT.
Vincent steepled his fingers. "Let's talk investments."
"Dad, that's a no. I have enough money to take care of everything," Foca said firmly, shaking his head.
Jonathan leaned back with a shark smile. "Then I suppose we'll just retract our support, right Dad?"
"Agreed," Vincent said without missing a beat.
"Wha—HEY! That's emotional manipulation!" Foca yelped.
"Oh, dear baby brother," Pearl cooed sweetly with the emotional violence of a business mogul, "you're much too young to understand these kinds of deals. It's simple: you accept our money and get full support, or you refuse our money and get no support. From Dad. Or us."
"Mom!" Foca turned to his mother like she was the last glass of water in a desert.
Leonor calmly sipped her tea like she was watching a telenovela.
"Don't look at me, honey. You have my support either way."
"Just take the investments," Luca whisper-shouted, yanking Foca into a mini–strategy huddle.
Tuesday popped her head in like a chaotic counselor.
"Yeah! Take the damn money and say THANK YOU, bitch!"
"But it's my company," Foca hissed. "I don't want them meddling—my family is amazing, but they are meddling champions."
"Then tell them," Luca said, matter-of-fact. "Take the money, but with conditions."
"Negotiate, baby!" Tuesday added, giving his shoulders a hype-up shimmy.
Finally convinced, Foca straightened up.
"Fine," he announced, lifting his chin like a mini CEO. "I'll accept the investments. But—you will have absolutely zero say in my company. None. Nada. Zilch. It's mine, my ego project, my problem. Capish?"
Jonathan snorted. "We can work with that, right Dad?"
Vincent nodded, smiling proudly. "Of course."
Leonor clapped her hands softly. "Now that everything is settled… are the three of you staying for lunch?"
"We would LOVE to, auntie!" Luca declared before Foca could even inhale.
"We're eating here for lunch," Foca sighed, resigned to his fate.
Everyone rose from their seats, and as they exited the study, the three older siblings took turns smothering Foca with congratulations, playful shoves, and proud squeezes.
Vincent and Leonor stood back, watching their youngest with glowing pride.
And just like that—
Operation: Build an Entertainment Company
officially began.