CHAPTER 27: THE GATHERING
The Roy family estate looked exactly as I remembered from the show.
Sprawling grounds. Too much house for too few people. The kind of wealth that showed itself in manicured lawns and buildings that cost millions but got used twice a year.
My car pulled up behind Kendall's. Connor's ancient sedan was already there. Shiv's sleek SUV. Logan's town car.
The family, gathered.
For mandatory therapy.
I grabbed my jacket from the back seat. Headed inside.
The foyer was massive. Vaulted ceilings. Art that cost more than most people's houses. Everything designed to impress and intimidate.
Voices from the living room. I followed them.
Logan held court near the fireplace. Whiskey in hand even though it was barely two PM. Marcia sat in an armchair, watching everything with that careful neutrality she'd perfected.
Connor talked to anyone who'd listen about ranch politics. Something about easement rights. No one was listening.
Kendall paced near the windows. Nervous energy radiating off him. He saw me, nodded. Kept pacing.
Shiv stood with Tom near the bar. Professional pose. Political smile. Tom looked uncomfortable in the whole situation.
And in the corner, trying to be invisible: a woman in her fifties with kind eyes and a leather portfolio. The therapist.
Dr. Helen something. I couldn't remember her last name from the show. Didn't matter. She'd try. She'd fail. Logan would eat her alive and the family would spend two hours destroying each other.
I grabbed a water bottle from the bar. Surveyed the room.
The Empathy Engine pulsed gently. I didn't push it—didn't need to. The surface emotions were loud enough.
From Logan: Another waste of time. But the board wants it. Fine. Let's get it over with.
From Kendall: Don't fuck this up. Be normal. Show Dad you're stable. Don't give him ammunition—
From Shiv: Maintain control. Don't let them see anything real. This is performance.
From Connor: Finally. Someone has to listen. They never listen. This time they'll listen—
From Tom: Why am I here? I shouldn't be here. This is family. I'm not family. Well I am but not really—
And from Marcia: quiet. Watchful. Calculating.
I moved to the therapist. Extended my hand. "Dr. Helen. Roman Roy."
She shook. Her grip was firm. Professional. "Mr. Roy. Thank you for coming."
"I think 'mandatory' was the operative word."
She smiled slightly. "Your father made participation very clear, yes."
"How long have you been doing this?"
"Family therapy? Fifteen years. High-net-worth families specifically."
"And how many of those families actually improved?"
Her smile widened. "I'm not allowed to discuss other clients."
"Diplomatic."
"Realistic." She glanced at Logan. "This will be... challenging."
"That's an understatement."
"I know." She met my eyes. "But I'm good at my job. And I think your family needs this more than they're willing to admit."
I looked at her—the genuine compassion, the professional competence, the hope that she could actually help.
Doomed. Absolutely doomed.
But I appreciated the effort.
"Good luck," I said quietly.
"Thank you."
Logan's voice cut across the room. "Alright. Let's get this circus started."
The therapy room was adjacent to the living room. Chairs arranged in a circle. No escape routes. Designed for confrontation.
We filed in. Logan took the chair that looked most like a throne. Marcia beside him. Kendall on his other side. Shiv and Tom together. Connor alone. Me between Connor and Kendall.
Dr. Helen took the remaining chair. Set her portfolio on her lap. Looked around the circle.
"Thank you all for being here," she began. "I know this isn't comfortable. Family therapy rarely is. But it's important work—"
"Let's skip the preamble," Logan interrupted. "You're here because the board thinks we need fixing. So fix us."
"Mr. Roy—"
"Logan."
"Logan." She didn't flinch. Good for her. "This process works best when everyone participates willingly. When we can speak honestly about—"
"We're honest," Shiv said. Crisp. Professional. "We just don't need a stranger to facilitate it."
"And yet here we are," Dr. Helen replied. Gentle but firm. "So perhaps there are things that haven't been said. Things that need a safe space to emerge."
Connor leaned forward. "I have things. Lots of things. About the family. About Dad. About how nobody listens—"
"Jesus Christ," Logan muttered.
"See?" Connor gestured. "That. That's what I'm talking about. The dismissal. The contempt. The—"
"Connor." Dr. Helen's voice was calm. "We'll get to everyone. But let's start with something foundational." She looked around the circle. "What does family mean to each of you?"
Silence.
Then Kendall: "Obligation."
Shiv: "Alliance."
Connor: "Disappointment."
Tom: "Uh... support? Is that—sorry, should I not answer? I'm not technically—"
"You're here," Dr. Helen said. "You count."
Logan snorted. "Family is business. Business is family. They're the same thing. Anyone who thinks differently is a fool."
Dr. Helen made a note. "And you, Roman? What does family mean to you?"
I'd been watching this play out. Cataloging reactions. Preparing for the bloodbath I knew was coming.
Everyone looked at me.
I thought about the question. The real answer.
Family in my original life. Then family in this one. The Roys with their particular brand of dysfunction. The weight of inherited trauma. The love that looked like warfare.
"Survival," I said finally. "Family is the people who see you at your worst and don't leave. Even when they should."
Dr. Helen studied me. "That's interesting. Because it suggests both connection and toxicity."
"Welcome to the Roys."
Logan actually laughed. Short. Sharp. "Kid's not wrong."
"And is that healthy?" Dr. Helen asked. "A family based on surviving each other?"
"We're not interested in healthy," Shiv said. "We're interested in functional."
"Are those mutually exclusive?"
"In this family? Yes."
The session continued. Dr. Helen tried to guide conversation toward vulnerability. Toward actual emotional honesty.
She might as well have tried to make water flow uphill.
Every attempt at depth got deflected. Every question got met with corporate answers or defensive jokes or Connor's rambling grievances that nobody took seriously.
I stayed quiet mostly. Watched. Let the Empathy Engine hum in the background.
This was the Roy family. This was what they did. Gathered in rooms and performed dysfunction like a practiced routine.
Dr. Helen was good. Professional. Patient.
But she was fighting against decades of learned behavior. Against a family that had weaponized emotional distance.
She was going to lose.
The only question was how badly.
Twenty minutes in, Kendall cracked first.
"Can we talk about the real issue?" he said suddenly. "Which is that Dad pits us against each other. Constantly. Makes us compete for scraps of approval while he sits back and watches."
Logan's eyes narrowed. "You think you're competing for scraps?"
"I think we're competing for something we're never going to get."
"Which is?"
"You actually believing in us. Any of us."
The room went very quiet.
Dr. Helen leaned forward. "Logan, how do you respond to that?"
"I respond that belief is earned. Not given."
"And have your children earned it?"
"Some more than others."
Kendall flinched. Shiv's jaw tightened. Connor looked at the floor.
I felt it through the Empathy Engine—the waves of pain, anger, resignation. All the things they'd never say directly.
This was the wound. The central one. Everything else radiated from this.
Logan's conditional love. His belief that affection was weakness. That children were investments that needed to prove their value.
Dr. Helen saw it too. "Logan, I'd like to explore—"
"We're done exploring." Logan stood. "This is a waste of time. You want us to cry and hug and talk about our feelings. That's not who we are."
"Dad—" Kendall started.
"We're done." Logan headed for the door. Stopped. Looked back at us. "Anyone who wants to stay and play therapy can. I've got actual work to do."
He left.
Marcia followed. Silent. Loyal.
Dr. Helen sat very still. Processing the professional disaster.
"Well," Connor said into the silence. "That went great."
Shiv stood. "I need a drink." She left. Tom scurried after her.
Kendall stayed seated. Staring at the empty doorway.
Dr. Helen looked at him. "Kendall?"
"I'm fine."
"You don't look fine."
"I said I'm fine." He stood. Walked out without looking back.
Connor sighed. Stood. "For what it's worth, I thought you did well. You tried. That's more than most people give us credit for."
He left too.
I stayed. The room suddenly very empty.
Dr. Helen set down her portfolio. "That was..."
"Exactly what you expected?" I offered.
"Worse." She looked at me. "You were quiet through most of it."
"I was observing."
"And what did you observe?"
I thought about how to answer that. "A family that's been hurting each other so long they don't know how to stop."
"Can it be fixed?"
"I don't know. Maybe pieces of it. Not all of it."
She nodded slowly. "You're very perceptive."
"Survival skill."
"With this family, I imagine it is." She started gathering her things. "I'm going to recommend continued sessions. Even if Logan doesn't participate. The rest of you might benefit."
"Might."
"It's the best I can offer." She stood. Extended her hand. "Thank you for being honest, at least."
I shook her hand. "Good luck with the report."
"I'll need it."
She left.
I sat alone in the therapy room. Chairs in a circle. Empty except for me.
This was the Roy family. Broken people breaking each other. Generation after generation.
And I was part of it now. For better or worse.
The wounded king, sitting in the ruins of another failed attempt at healing.
I stood. Headed for the door.
In the hallway, I found Kendall. Leaning against the wall. Head back. Eyes closed.
"You okay?" I asked.
"No."
"Want to talk about it?"
"Not here." He opened his eyes. "But yeah. Soon. The teaching thing. I need it."
"Next week. We'll start."
He nodded. Pushed off the wall. "Thanks, Roman."
"For what?"
"For not being like them. For actually giving a shit."
He walked away before I could respond.
I stood in the empty hallway.
Somewhere in this broken family, there were pieces worth saving.
I just had to figure out which ones.
And how.
Note:
Please give good reviews and power stones itrings more people and more people means more chapters?
My Patreon is all about exploring 'What If' timelines, and you can get instant access to chapters far ahead of the public release.
Choose your journey:
Timeline Viewer ($6): Get 10 chapters of early access + 5 new chapters weekly.
Timeline Explorer ($9): Jump 15-20 chapters ahead of everyone.
Timeline Keeper ($15): Get Instant Access to chapters the moment I finish writing them. No more waiting.
Read the raw, unfiltered story as it unfolds. Your support makes this possible!
👉 Find it all at patreon.com/Whatif0