POV: Asher
Asher had called Finn the moment the interview ended. Had heard the devastation in his cousin's voice and known what he needed to do.
He'd packed a bag without thinking. Drove to Liam's villa and waited in the car, watching through the windows as Finn confronted them. Watched his cousin's shoulders shake. Watched Jasmine reach for him and Finn pull away.
Then he'd rung the doorbell and collected the wreckage.
Now they sat in Asher's half-packed apartment, whiskey between them, the debris of their shared delusion spread across the coffee table like shrapnel from an explosion neither of them had seen coming. Moving boxes lined the walls—his escape route already in progress before tonight's disaster accelerated the timeline.
Finn hadn't spoken since they'd arrived. Just sat on the leather couch, staring at nothing, nursing a glass he'd barely touched. The silence was heavy, but Asher didn't rush it. Some wounds needed space before they could bleed properly.
"You knew," Finn said finally, his voice hoarse. "Before the DNA test. You already knew you were leaving."
Asher didn't flinch from the accusation. Didn't offer excuses or deflections. That wasn't who he was, and Finn deserved better than comfortable lies.
"I knew I wanted to leave." He stared at his glass, watching the amber liquid catch the city lights bleeding through the windows. "I told you what I told them—Jasmine was never real for me. The sex was real. The escape was real. But love?" He shook his head slowly. "I don't think I'm capable of it. Not the way Liam is. Not the way you are."
Finn laughed, and the sound was bitter enough to curdle milk. "So I was the only idiot who actually fell for her. The only fool who thought we were building something that mattered."
"You're not an idiot. You're optimistic. There's a difference." Asher almost smiled—a rare enough occurrence that Finn actually looked up. "Liam's the same way. Golden retrievers, both of you. Always believing people are better than they are. Always assuming the best outcome is the likely one."
"And you're what? The realist who saw through it all from the beginning? The wise cynic who knew better than to get attached?"
"I'm the coward who went along because fighting was too hard." Asher met his eyes, letting Finn see the self-loathing he usually kept buried beneath layers of professional detachment.
"I saw what was happening. Saw how Jasmine looked at Liam differently than she looked at us. Saw the hierarchy forming, the rankings she probably didn't even realize she was making. And instead of saying something, instead of demanding honesty, I just... stayed. Took what I could get until I couldn't anymore."
He took a long drink, letting the whiskey burn. "I'm not proud of it. But I'm done pretending. Done playing a role in someone else's love story."
They drank in silence for a while. The city glittered beyond the floor-to-ceiling windows, millions of lives unfolding in those lights, completely indifferent to two men sitting in a half-empty apartment trying to make sense of their pain.
"Come with me," Asher said finally.
Finn's head snapped up. "What?"
"Singapore's too far. I get that. Too permanent, too final." Asher leaned forward, elbows on his knees, the closest to earnest he'd been in years. "But Asia's big. Lots of opportunities for someone with your ear for music. The industry there is exploding—K-pop, J-pop, emerging markets that haven't been colonized by the major labels yet. You could build something real. Something that's actually yours."
"You want me to run away." Finn's voice was flat, but Asher caught the flicker of something beneath—interest, maybe. Hope trying to survive.
"I want you to choose yourself for once." Asher's voice hardened with conviction. "When's the last time you did something because you wanted to, not because Liam needed you or Jasmine wanted you or the company demanded it? When's the last time you made a decision that was purely, selfishly about what Finn wanted?"
Finn opened his mouth to answer, then closed it. His brow furrowed as he searched his memory, coming up empty. The realization played across his face like watching someone discover a wound they hadn't known they were carrying.
"That's what I thought," Asher said quietly. "You've spent your whole life being the charming one, the easy one, the one who goes along to keep the peace. And where did it get you? Erased from a television interview like you never existed. Watching the woman you love hold hands with your brother while pretending you're nobody."
"That's harsh."
"It's true. And you deserve someone who tells you the truth, even when it's ugly." Asher refilled both their glasses. "London first. I get the branch running, stabilize operations, prove to the board that the expansion wasn't a mistake. You take some time. Decompress. Figure out what you actually want when you're not performing for anyone else."
Finn was quiet, processing. Asher could see the war happening behind his eyes—the optimistic part that still believed in reconciliation fighting against the wounded part that had finally learned self-preservation.
"Then Asia," Asher continued. "Tokyo has an incredible music scene. Seoul's the epicenter of the new wave. Singapore, Hong Kong, Bangkok—wherever the music takes you. I'll have connections by then. Resources. We build something new together, away from Liam, away from Jasmine, away from the fucking fairy tale that never included us anyway."
"They're still family," Finn said, but the protest was weak. Reflexive rather than genuine.
"They made their choice. Chose each other, chose the narrative that worked for them, chose to protect their image over protecting us." Asher's jaw tightened. "Now we make ours. That doesn't mean we hate them. Doesn't mean we never speak again. It just means we stop waiting for them to make room for us at a table that was never really ours."
Finn stared into his whiskey like it contained answers. "What about the girls? The twins?"
The question hit somewhere Asher had been avoiding. Those babies—one of them might be his. Biologically, at least. But biology didn't make a father. Presence did. Choice did.
"Liam will be a good dad. He's built for it." The words cost him more than he'd expected. "And maybe... maybe distance is better. For them. Growing up without the confusion of three men trying to figure out their roles. Growing up with stability instead of whatever the hell we were attempting."
"That sounds like a rationalization."
"It probably is." Asher shrugged. "But it's the one I can live with. And living with it somewhere else, building something that's actually mine—that sounds better than staying here and watching them be happy without us."
Finn looked at Asher—really looked at him. At his grumpy, practical, emotionally constipated cousin who'd never once told him they were family until tonight. Who'd shown up at the worst possible moment because blood mattered more than distance. Who'd offered an escape route instead of empty comfort.
"You actually give a shit about me," Finn said, wonder bleeding through the words. "Under all that ice, you actually care."
"Don't get used to it." But Asher's voice had softened. "Someone had to show up. And I know what it feels like to be the one who gets left behind."
The city hummed beyond the windows. Boxes waited to be sealed. A future waited to be built—different from the one they'd imagined, but real. Theirs.
"Okay," Finn said. "Okay."