Chapter 4
The bright, cinematic sunlight pouring through the windows seemed to sharpen, highlighting the absolute, terrifying stillness of Alaric Montesi. He did not look at the unconscious man bleeding among the gift boxes. He did not look at the weeping mistress.
He gently guided Serena back into the ornate chair, settling her safely into the seat that was rightfully hers. He smoothed the fabric of her elegant maternity dress with a father's tender care.
Once his daughter was secure, Alaric slowly turned his full, intimidating presence back toward Bianca.
Every Mafia-family member, every Capo, and every armed guard remained completely silent.
Alaric looked directly at Bianca. The deeply masculine, veteran Mafia boss stood perfectly straight, his tailored dark suit immaculate. He spoke with a voice that was dead calm, a low, raspy whisper that carried the terrifying weight of absolute, irreversible judgment.
"Your grandson," Alaric said, the measured pause between his words hanging in the air like a guillotine blade, "inherits nothing I own."
Bianca froze. The venomous rage contorting her fair, rosy face evaporated in a microsecond, replaced by a sudden, profound, and utterly consuming terror.
Bastian groaned from the floor, pushing himself up onto his elbows. His face drained entirely of color as he heard Alaric’s words. The arrogant illusion of his coup shattered completely. He wasn't taking over the Montesi empire; he was being erased from it.
"Alaric, please," Bianca stammered, her American accent cracking violently as she lowered her pointing finger. "You cannot disinherit him. He is your son-in-law. The families... the alliance..."
"There is no alliance," Alaric whispered softly, taking a single, slow step toward her. "You brought a mistress into my home. You laid hands on my pregnant daughter. You believed a bloodline dictated by gender would grant you immunity from my wrath."
"I was securing the future!" Bastian choked out from the floor, spitting a drop of blood onto a crushed gift box. "You need a male heir, Alaric! You know how the old families think! They won't respect a woman!"
"They will respect the person who holds the guns and the money," Alaric corrected him smoothly. "And neither of those things belongs to you."
He turned his head slightly, his cold, sharp eyes locking onto his lead Capo, a towering man named Silas.
"Silas," Alaric commanded quietly.
"Yes, Boss," Silas responded immediately, stepping forward from the shadows.
"Take the Coletti family to the holding cells in the basement," Alaric ordered, his voice devoid of all human emotion. "Bind them. Strip them of their phones and their jewelry. Do not let them speak to each other. They will remain in the dark until I decide how publicly I am going to dismantle them."
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"You can't do this!" Faye screamed, her satin dress trembling as two massive bodyguards grabbed her by the arms. "I'm pregnant! I'm carrying his son!"
"You are a pawn," Alaric stated coldly, not even looking at her. "You will be provided with adequate medical care. But you will never see the sun again."
