Chapter 3 - The Sins of the Mother
The grandfather clock in the corner of the living room ticked with a maddening, deafening rhythm. Tick. Tock. Tick. Tock.
I remained kneeling on the Persian rug, the small piece of parchment still clutched in my right hand, the letter C gleaming coldly from the silver pendant lying inches from my shoe. The air in the room was so dense with unspoken guilt and suppressed panic that breathing felt like inhaling broken glass.
"Julian..." Margaret started, her voice cracking, completely stripped of its usual imperious authority. She reached a manicured hand out toward me. "Julian, listen to your mother. That... that note is a forgery. It's a cheap trick designed by your enemies to tear this family apart. You know how ruthless our rivals are—they’ll forge anything to destabilize the syndicate."
I didn't move. I slowly stood up to my full height, towering over my mother, my brother, and his wife. My face was a mask of cold, unyielding granite, but beneath that mask, a volcano was beginning to erupt.
"My enemies didn't write this," I said, my voice barely above a whisper, yet it vibrated with a lethal intensity that made Ethan flinch back toward the front door. "Because my enemies wouldn't know about a private keepsake box hidden away thirty years ago. Only people inside this house—my family—would know."
Lauren tried to recover her composure, adjusting her cashmere sweater with shaking fingers. "Julian, don't be absurd! You're letting stray children manipulate you into psychoanalyzing a piece of junk found in a gutter. We came here to check on you, and frankly, this environment is toxic. Ethan, let's go."
"Nobody is leaving," I commanded, raising my hand slightly.
Instantly, the heavy oak front door swung open from the outside. Two of my top security enforcers—massive, armed men in tailored black suits—stepped into the hallway, blocking the exit entirely.
Ethan swallowed hard, his face turning pale. "Julian, you can't hold us here! This is kidnapping!"
"It’s not kidnapping," I replied coldly, walking slowly toward my mother, who shrank back against the wall like a cornered animal. "It's a family meeting. And we are going to talk about the skeletons you buried in our backyard."
I looked down at the note again, reading the words aloud so the sound of them echoed off the walls. "Take the girls to their mafia father before Margaret finds them."
I stared straight into my mother’s terrified eyes. "Who wrote this note, Mother? And more importantly... who are these little girls?"
Margaret closed her eyes, a shudder wracking her frame. She looked older, suddenly—defeated by the inescapable gravity of her own past. She knew that in my world, betrayal was the ultimate currency, and unlike the courts of law, my justice was swift, absolute, and final.
"Helen," Margaret whispered, the word barely escaping her lips.
"Helen?" I repeated, my brow furrowing. "Who the hell is Helen?"
"Helen Vance," Ethan blurted out, panic leaking out of him as he tried to save his own skin. "She... she was Claire’s younger sister. Claire’s half-sister, technically. From your father's side, kept quiet because of the scandal. She was living in secret down in upstate New York."
The room spun. Claire had a sister? A sister I never knew existed during five years of marriage?
"Explain," I ordered, my voice cracking with suppressed rage.
Margaret sank heavily into an armchair, her hands trembling in her lap. "When Claire died two years ago... everyone thought she died of natural complications following her long illness. But Claire didn't just get sick, Julian. She discovered something before she passed. She discovered that years ago, your father had an illegitimate daughter—Helen—whom he kept hidden to protect his political standing."
"And what does that have to do with the twins?" I demanded, stepping closer.
"Helen tracked Claire down shortly before Claire passed away," Margaret confessed, tears finally spilling over her powdered cheeks. "Helen was pregnant. Twin girls. Conceived... conceived with a high-ranking member of the rival Moretti-aligned families to forge a secret peace treaty. But when the war broke out between the syndicates, Helen had to run. She brought the babies to Claire for protection. Claire took them in, hid them in a safe house, and gave them her spare silver pendant so they would always have proof of who they belonged to."
"And when Claire died..." I finished the sentence for her, my blood turning to ice. "You found out about them."
"I found the files in Claire’s private desk after the funeral," Margaret wept, her facade completely shattered. "I knew that if rival factions found out there were direct blood heirs linking our family to the opposition, a new mafia war would erupt. I ordered our men to relocate them, to pay someone off to make them vanish quietly. I thought... I thought they were taken care of!"
The revelation hit me like a physical blow to the chest. My own mother—the woman who preached family loyalty above all else—had ordered the disposal of innocent children. My late wife’s blood nieces.
And yet, somehow, the twins had survived. They had walked miles through the dark, clutching a silver box, finding their way back to the only place on earth where they were supposed to be safe.
"You didn't just try to hide a secret," I said, my voice dropping into a terrifying, dead calm. "You tried to murder two helpless children. My wife's family."
I turned away from my mother, unable to even look at her face anymore. I walked back over to where Ivy and Skye were huddled together on the rug, watching the adults with wide, fearful eyes.
I knelt down, scooped them both gently into my arms, and stood up.
"Viktor," I called out to my head enforcer standing by the door.
"Boss?" Viktor stepped forward, his expression grim.
"Escort Margaret, Ethan, and Lauren off my property immediately. Strip them of all corporate shares, company vehicles, and monthly allowances. They are officially banished from the family estate and every asset bearing the Moretti name. If any of them ever comes within fifty miles of this house again... treat them as hostile targets."
"Julian, no! You can't do this to your own family!" Margaret screamed as Viktor’s men took her by the arms, dragging her toward the door.
"You stopped being my family the moment you turned your back on children," I replied without looking back.
As the heavy oak doors slammed shut behind them, cutting off their protests, I held Ivy and Skye tight against my chest. They buried their small faces in my shoulders, their breathing slow and steady.
May you like
The storm was only just beginning. The underworld would soon find out that the feared mafia boss had discovered his true heirs, and every rival syndicate would come looking for blood. But as I carried the twins into the kitchen to make them dinner, looking at the silver pendant resting safely on the counter, I knew one thing with absolute certainty:
Let them come. I had built an empire to destroy my enemies. Now, I would burn the world down to protect my daughters.
