Chapter 2
I sent Sadie to the kitchen with my oldest bodyguard and told the chef to make her whatever she wanted.
Gloria laughed when she heard that.
“Of course.”
I turned.
“What?”
“You reward whining.”
I almost smiled.
“She asked for food.”
“She had food.”
“No.”
I tapped the blackened meat on her plate.
“She had a message.”
That silenced her.
Pierce set his glass down.
“Donovan, this doesn’t need to become a family issue.”
I looked at him.
“It became a family issue when my daughter learned she eats differently because she isn’t a boy.”
Calvin lowered his head.
I regretted saying it with him in the room.
Not because it was untrue.
Because children should not be forced to carry adult ideology either.
“Take Calvin upstairs,” I said.
Gloria snapped, “He stays.”
I looked at her.
“No.”
That one word changed the room.
A bodyguard stepped forward.
Calvin hesitated, then left with him.
Gloria waited until the door closed.
Then she turned on me.
“You are destroying discipline.”
“By feeding a three-year-old?”
“By pretending every child has the same place.”
There it was again.
I sat back.
“Explain Sadie’s place.”
Pierce whispered, “Don’t.”
Not to me.
To Gloria.
Interesting.
She ignored him.
“Sadie will marry one day. Calvin carries Marchetti blood forward.”
I stared.
“Sadie is Marchetti blood.”
“Not in the same way.”
My jaw tightened.
This family had spent generations turning biology into politics because old men were too afraid to admit power was mostly habit.
I leaned forward.
“Who else believes that?”
Gloria’s expression changed.
Small.
She had expected anger.
Not investigation.
“Everyone with sense.”
“No.”
I looked at Pierce.
“He doesn’t look comfortable.”
Pierce cursed quietly.
I turned to him.
“How long has this been discussed?”
He shook his head.
“Nothing formal.”
Another useful phrase.
Nothing formal means often, but quietly.
“Who?”
Silence.
I stood.
“Pierce.”
He exhaled.
“Some of the older family.”
“Names.”
“Gloria.”
“Obviously.”
“My father’s old friends. Dominic Hale. Victor Marchetti.”
Victor.
My father’s cousin.
Retired.
Still respected.
Gloria folded her arms.
“They’re not plotting anything.”
“I didn’t say they were.”
Her face changed.
Too fast.
I looked at her.
“So there is a plot.”
“No.”
Pierce closed his eyes.
I almost laughed.
The dinner had begun with a burnt steak.
Now my aunt was accidentally confirming that older Marchetti members had been discussing what my daughter should inherit.
May you like
Or not inherit.
Before she could even read.
