Chapter 8
The swift, absolute reversal of power paralyzed the fifty guests at the banquet tables. The capos and relatives who had sat quietly during Lowen’s humiliation now shrank back in their padded dining chairs, terrified of the retribution that was surely coming. The bright, luminous colors of the room offered no shadows for them to hide their cowardice.
Lowen sat in his chair, the medical brace securely holding his knee, projecting an aura of terrifying calm. He slowly picked up his water glass and took a sip, the ice clinking loudly in the dead silent gallery.
"It seems your coup has experienced a logistical failure, Aunt Domenica," Lowen stated, his deep voice carrying a mocking, deadly edge.
Domenica stared at the tactical guards, her chest heaving as panic completely overrode her aristocratic facade. She looked back at Lowen, her diamond jewelry sparkling as she trembled.
"Lowen, please," Domenica stammered, her American accent cracking as she attempted to pivot from usurper to desperate relative. "This was all a test. I needed to know if you were strong enough to lead the family through the coming war with the northerners. You proved yourself. You are the rightful head."
"A test?" Lowen repeated, his eyebrows raising slightly in feigned surprise. "You ripped the brace from a shattered knee and threatened to put a bullet in my head as a stress test?"
"Family is complicated, darling," she whispered, taking a hesitant step forward, raising her hands in a placating gesture. "We push each other. It's how we survive."
"If you take one more step toward me, I will have Marcus shoot you in both of your knees so you can understand exactly how complicated my survival has been," Lowen promised, his voice dropping to a freezing, absolute zero.
Domenica froze, her foot hovering over the marble floor before she slowly pulled it back.
"What are you going to do with me?" she asked, tears of genuine terror finally spilling over her mascara.
"I am going to do exactly what you intended for me," Lowen said. He gestured slightly with two fingers toward Marcus. "Take her to the sub-basement. Put her in the dark. We will discuss the specific terms of her exile once I have finished my birthday cake."
"No! Please! Not the basement!" Domenica shrieked as two of the tactical guards grabbed her by her luxurious formal gown, hauling her roughly backward. "Lowen! I'm your family! You can't do this!"
"Family protects family," Lowen replied coldly as they dragged her toward the doors. "You are just a parasite who overstayed her welcome."
The doors slammed shut, cutting off her hysterical screams.
Lowen turned his attention back to the room. He looked at the fifty guests who were staring at him with wide, terrified eyes.
May you like
"The banquet is over," Lowen announced softly. "Leave your gifts at the door. If any of you speak of what happened here tonight to the outside families, I will consider it an act of treason. Get out of my house."
The dismissal was met with a frantic, chaotic scramble. Chairs tipped over as men and women rushed toward the exits, desperate to escape the wrath of the king. Within minutes, the vast dining gallery was entirely empty, leaving only the remnants of the feast and the heavy, lingering scent of fear.
