Third Person's POV.
The tense atmosphere from Percy's confrontation with his mother the previous night still clung to the modern apartment, a cold residue of the emotional storm. Percy sat nursing a mug of coffee, the morning news a distant, ignored hum, trying to reclaim some semblance of calm. He hadn't slept well. The victory felt heavy, but the war was clearly far from over.
The front door suddenly burst open, and his twin sister, Penelope, strode in, her designer bag swinging with an air of controlled desperation.
"Get up," Penelope commanded, her tone a crisp blend of urgency and sheer exasperation. "Put on a coat. You're coming with me."
Gemini, who was sitting nearby reviewing some project files, looked up, startled by the sudden intrusion. "Penelope, what's wrong? What happened?"
Penelope let out a heavy sigh, running a weary hand through her long, perfect hair. "Intervention," she stated plainly. "The Sinclair side of the family has mobilized. Aunt Clarice organized a mandatory dinner tonight. They want to force peace—which really means, they want to force you to concede—between you and Mother."
Percy calmly closed his laptop. "No. Absolutely not. I'm not going over there to be guilt-tripped."
"You don't have a choice, big brother." Penelope insisted, her voice dropping to a serious, warning pitch as she leaned over to tug Percy's arm. "This isn't about Mother's rage; this is about Uncle Phillip. He's the patriarch of the Sinclair side now, and when he calls a meeting, everyone attends. He's Dad's closest business confidante. If you snub him, you damage the relationship Dad relies on. You'll hurt him, not just Mother."
Percy hesitated, his resolve momentarily faltering. Penelope was right; disrespecting Uncle Phillip, the quiet power broker of their extended corporate dynasty, wasn't a good idea. That move carried real consequences.
"Fine," Percy relented, accepting the inevitable. He leaned over and pressed a firm kiss to Gemini's cheek. "Stay here, Bunny. Do not answer the phone, do not open the door to strangers, and do not worry. I'll be back before ten."
"Be careful, Percy," Gemini whispered, squeezing his hand, a look of profound concern in his eyes. He knew this wasn't just dinner—it was a trial.
Penelope drove Percy to the imposing, traditional family mansion. The atmosphere inside the sleek car was thick with anticipated dread.
"Who all is there?" Percy asked, tightening his tie, preparing his emotional armor.
"The whole peacekeeping squad," Penelope listed, ticking names off her fingers with grim amusement. "Uncle Phillip, Aunt Clarice, Alexis and Mark—they're there to represent the 'neutral party' I imagine and the 'innocent bystanders,' respectively. And, of course, Phonixe will be there, probably playing some mobile game and wishing he were anywhere else."
They arrived to find the formal dining room already set, radiating an unnatural, forced stillness. Percy's father, Robert, looked utterly exhausted, perched stiffly at the head of the table. His mother was seated across from him, radiating a chilling, porcelain composure that Percy knew hid volcanic fury barely contained by the room's diplomatic pressure.
The rest of the intervention party was seated, trying desperately to look supportive and non-judgmental. Uncle Phillip, a man of quiet authority whose gaze missed nothing, waited until the last of the immaculate plates were cleared before he finally spoke.
"Eve. Percy. We are here tonight because we love this family, and we believe in its legacy," Phillip began, his voice deep, measured, and impossible to ignore. "What happened this week—the public comments, the resignation, and the threat of a legal name change—is unacceptable. We are not asking you to apologize. We are asking you to acknowledge each other's professional autonomy and reach a compromise."
He then looked directly at Percy, his expression stern. "Percy, your new venture is impressive, but you cannot abandon the family name. And Eve, you cannot publicly dismiss your son's achievements for personal gain despite your reservations."
Genevieve Morre leaned forward, and in a performance that Percy had watched since childhood, a tearful, manipulative facade instantly deployed for the benefit of the gathered family.
"Percy, darling," she said, her voice soft, wounded, and trembling just enough to sound sincere. "This has all been a misunderstanding. I was simply protecting your future. My comments were framed to shield you from the pressures of a startup and reassure our clients that your return to Morre Holdings was inevitable. I never meant to hurt you. Break things off with that kid and come back to me."
She offered a delicate, extended hand across the table, an implied demand for him to take it, to give in to the family pressure and signal surrender.
The performance is on, Percy thought. It's always the performance. She isn't sorry she hurt me; she's sorry she got caught in a public lie and pushed me to a point of irreversible action. This is not an apology; it's damage control. If I take that hand, I'll lose everything I fought for. My freedom, my company, and my self-respect will be forfeit. I won't let her minimize my ultimatum.
Percy looked at her hand, held suspended over the tablecloth, then met her eyes, which held a raw, undeniable warning: Take the win, or face worse consequences.
"I appreciate your concern, Mother," Percy stated, his voice calm and firm, cutting through the room's suffocating silence. "But my career is not a sabbatical. It is my life's work. I do not need protection, and I do not need saving."
He ignored her outstretched hand entirely.
"The choice is not complicated, Uncle Phillip. I have already made up my mind when I left Morre Holdings and appointed Renee as the new Creative Director. The name change is not a mere threat; it is a promise. If I am publicly humiliated or undermined again, the process begins immediately. No further discussion is required."
He looked around the table, his gaze settling briefly on Alexis (who gave him a subtle, almost imperceptible nod of approval) and Mark (who looked completely bewildered).
"The only way for this to end is if Mother accepts my decision," Percy concluded. "My life and happiness is non-negotiable."
The unbearable tension in the room shattered. Genevieve's pitiful mask instantly dissolved, replaced by a flash of genuine fury, that she immediately smothered for her brother's benefit.
"So, that's it?" Uncle Phillip asked, his face etched with profound disappointment. "You refuse to meet your mother halfway?"
"I refuse to return to her controlling my life," Percy corrected, standing up and reaching for his coat. "I'm sorry, but I won't give him up. Thank you all for coming."
He looked at Penelope, who stood up with a weary, resigned sigh. She knew he was right, but she hated the ensuing chaos.
"I'm sorry you're caught in the middle of all this, Pen," Percy told her softly, letting her lead the way out. "But I need to stand my ground. Mother will never respect my terms until she realizes the price of crossing them is too high."