Chapter 9
Conrad hated that Nathan apologized.
Not because he wanted the boys fighting.
Because he believed I had turned his son against him.
“You made him look weak.”
I stared at him across my office.
“He said sorry.”
“Exactly.”
That answer told me more about Conrad than the rod did.
“You think apology is weakness.”
“I think public surrender is.”
“He is five.”
Conrad leaned forward.
“He will not stay five.”
There it was.
Every cruelty justified by adulthood arriving someday.
I kept my voice low.
“Neither will Eli.”
Conrad’s expression tightened.
“Exactly.”
I saw it.
He was afraid.
Not of Eli now.
Of Eli at twenty.
At thirty.
A future boss’s son.
A future rival.
A future reminder that Conrad’s branch did not hold the chair.
“You’ve been fighting an adult Eli in your head.”
He laughed.
“You think your son won’t inherit your instincts?”
“He might.”
“Then Nathan needs his own.”
“No.”
I shook my head.
“Nathan needs his own life.”
Conrad looked at me as though I were naïve.
“This family eats naïve men.”
“Then perhaps stop feeding children to it.”
Silence.
That landed.
I leaned back.
“What did Miriam promise you?”
His eyes changed.
There.
Finally.
Not just ideology.
A promise.
He looked away.
“Nothing.”
I almost smiled.
“Then this should be easy.”
Silence.
“Conrad.”
He exhaled.
“A council seat.”
There.
Formal.
Permanent.
If Miriam’s branch gained institutional power, Conrad would hold the seat first.
Nathan after him.
A hereditary faction inside Ravello.
The children were not the prize.
They were justification.
May you like
Miriam wanted the structure to look natural because the next generation already appeared divided.
So she began dividing them now.
