CHAPTER HUNDRED AND THIRTY-EIGHT

RICHARD’S POV

The crisp morning air was practically made for golf, and I was supposed to be enjoying the sunshine and the scent of freshly cut grass. But Jonathan and William, naturally, had to turn everything into a competition. So, there we were, on the green, engaged in a heated sibling rivalry that probably looked ridiculous to anyone within a five-mile radius.

"Okay, Richie," William said, his voice dripping with mock encouragement. "Let's see if those healing hands of yours can also work magic on a nine iron."

I ignored his jab and lined up my shot, focusing on the distant flag fluttering in the breeze.

"Don't choke now, little brother," Jonathan chimed in, his tone a mix of amusement and thinly veiled malice. "The pressure's on. Daddy's watching."

He gestured towards our father, who was sitting in a nearby golf cart, observing our little competition with a detached air. Dad had never been big on expressing emotions, but I could tell he was secretly enjoying William and Jon