Chapter 111: The Sebastian Ancestral Home

They passed the old Sebastian ancestral home on the way back from Rosalie’s café.

Dominic almost missed it.

The car had already passed the stone wall before something familiar registered, making him stop and turn in his seat to look out the window.

"Wait."

Victoria glanced over.

"What?"

"That was the old house."

She followed his gaze, then settled back into her seat.

"Yes."

Dominic continued looking until the property disappeared behind the trees.

He hadn’t been there in years.

The house itself had changed surprisingly little. The new owners had repainted portions of the exterior and replaced the old gate, but the sprawling roofline was unmistakable. So was the long driveway where Dominic had once learned to ride a bicycle before graduating to considerably more dangerous things with wheels.

His father had sold the property when Sebastian Group needed money badly enough that maintaining an ancestral home no longer made financial sense.

At the time, Dominic hadn’t thought much about it.

They’d simply moved.

The new house was smaller, although hardly small enough for anyone to accuse the Sebastians of suffering. By then, Dominic spent much of his time with Alexander anyway, and Victoria had made sure their new home looked respectable enough that very few people questioned why an old, wealthy family had suddenly abandoned the property associated with their name.

Augustus died around the same period.

After that, there was little reason to maintain appearances for his benefit.

Dominic turned back around.

"Do you ever miss it?"

"The house?"

"Yes."

Victoria considered the question.

"Sometimes."

"You never said anything."

"What would that have accomplished?"

Dominic gave her a look.

"Normal people occasionally talk about things without expecting to accomplish something."

"I’m learning."

"Therapy might be good for you too."

"Don’t push your luck."

Dominic smiled faintly and looked out the window again.

His father had still been running Sebastian Group when the house was sold. Conrad had retained most of his shares even after eventually handing the CEO position to Dominic, then disappeared from their daily lives with remarkably little ceremony.

No divorce.

No dramatic farewell.

Just increasing distance until Dominic stopped expecting him to come home.

The shares remained Conrad’s. Every year, his voting authority appeared through the same longtime friend on the Board, which was occasionally the only reminder that Conrad Sebastian remained perfectly alive somewhere.

Dominic had shares of his own, of course. Enough to strengthen his position when he became CEO and enough to provide dividends even now.

Unfortunately, he was beginning to discover that having money and knowing what to do with it were two very different skills.

He glanced toward his mother.

"How much money do you actually have?"

Victoria slowly turned.

"What a charming question to ask your mother."

"I’m serious."

"So am I. Don’t ask people how much money they have."

"You’re not people. You’re my mother."

"That argument gets worse every time you use it."

Dominic ignored her.

"You haven’t actually had a job in years."

Victoria’s eyebrows rose.

"And yet you still ask me for money."

"That’s exactly my point."

He shifted toward her.

"How do you have more readily available money than I do?"

"I invested mine."

Dominic stared.

"That sounded judgmental."

"It was."

"I invested."

"In what?"

"Sebastian Group."

"You inherited and received shares in Sebastian Group. That isn’t the same thing."

Dominic opened his mouth.

Then closed it.

Annoyingly, she had him there.

Victoria looked back toward the road.

"I bought property when I could afford it. I sold some later, and I kept some as rentals. I reinvested part of the income."

"With what money?"

"My dividends, mostly."

Dominic frowned.

"You lived on those dividends."

"I lived on some of them."

That distinction was becoming increasingly offensive.

For years, Dominic had treated his own dividend payments as exactly what they appeared to be.

Money.

Money went into his accounts, and whenever they got full enough, he bought things.

There had never been much reason to do otherwise.

His salary as CEO had been substantial. Sebastian Group covered many of the expenses associated with his position, while Victoria had always been there whenever he needed something outside those benefits.

And then there had been Alexander.

Dominic grimaced.

That particular realization was becoming less pleasant every time it returned.

He’d spent years earning more than most people could reasonably hope to make and had somehow reached his mid-thirties with fewer independent sources of income than his unemployed mother.

"You could’ve taught me."

Victoria looked at him.

"I tried."

"When?"

"When you were twenty-four."

"I was busy."

"You bought a sports car."

Dominic frowned.

"That doesn’t prove anything."

"You sold the fancy car and bought another one at twenty-six."

"That one appreciated."

"No, it didn’t."

Dominic turned toward the window.

"I dislike this conversation."

"I’m enjoying it."

Of course she was.

Still, the problem remained even after they reached home.

For the first time in his adult life, Dominic couldn’t simply assume that another large salary would arrive next month.

He still had money. He owned Sebastian Group shares and wasn’t remotely close to poverty, regardless of how dramatically recent events occasionally made him feel otherwise.

But maintaining wealth was different from merely possessing it.

And if he truly had no intention of returning to Sebastian Group, eventually he needed to decide what came next.

That evening, Dominic found himself standing inside the art gallery Alexander had given him years ago.

He hadn’t painted since returning from Italy.

Not because he’d lost interest.

Between therapy appointments and everything else he was trying to straighten out, he simply hadn’t settled into a routine yet.

The gallery was quiet when he entered.

Dominic walked farther inside, studying the open floor with eyes considerably different from before.

Until recently, he’d thought of the place as a gift.

A very expensive gift, certainly, but still something Alexander had given him because Dominic liked art.

Now he found himself wondering what else it could become.

He could eventually exhibit his own work, assuming he produced anything worth exhibiting.

But the space didn’t have to depend on him.

Other artists needed somewhere to show their work.

Dominic stopped near the center of the gallery.

"What if I rented part of it?"

Victoria, who had followed him inside, looked around.

"To whom?"

"Artists."

"For exhibitions?"

"Maybe."

He thought about it.

"The front could remain a gallery. The rest could be used for workshops or rented studio space."

Victoria studied the room more carefully.

"You’d need to determine whether the numbers make sense."

"I know."

"You’d also have to actually manage it."

"I know."

She looked at him.

Dominic frowned.

"Why do you keep looking at me like that?"

"I’m waiting."

"For what?"

"For you to ask me to do it for you."

Dominic stared at her.

Then he understood.

A few months ago, he probably would have.

Or he would’ve asked Alexander who to hire, handed the problem to an employee, and waited for someone else to return with a finished business plan.

Dominic looked around the gallery again.

"No."

Victoria’s expression shifted slightly.

"I think I’ll figure this one out myself."

He had no idea whether the gallery could support his lifestyle.

Probably not.

At least, not yet.

But perhaps that wasn’t the first question he needed to answer.

He’d already spent most of his life deciding whether something was worthwhile based on how impressive it could become.

Maybe this time, he could start by figuring out whether he actually enjoyed doing it.

Then he could learn how to make it pay.