Chapter 4
The cinematic, golden light of the chandeliers seemed to sharpen and focus entirely on the tense standoff at the edge of the grand salon. Phoebe wrapped her arms protectively around Samuel’s shoulders, desperately trying to turn him back toward the silk drapes.
But the commotion had already drawn unwanted attention.
From across the polished marble floor, six-year-old Isaac Vale turned his head. Dressed impeccably in his navy velvet jacket, the young heir to the syndicate stepped away from his father's side. The boy possessed a quiet, observant intelligence, and his dark eyes locked onto the small commotion near the entryway.
Isaac walked forward, his footsteps silent against the marble. Evelyn, panicked by the approaching boy, tried to shift her emerald gown to block his line of sight, but she was too late.
Isaac stepped around his future stepmother. He stopped dead in his tracks.
He looked directly at Samuel.
The two boys stood face-to-face, separated by mere inches. The visual contrast of their clothing—the rich, dark navy velvet against the soft, knitted cream Christmas sweater—only served to highlight the absolute, breathtaking impossibility of their features. They possessed identical faces. The same dark, naturally swept hair, the same fair, rosy cheeks, the same expressive eyes. It was like looking into a flawless, living mirror.
Samuel blinked, his innocent eyes wide with wonder as he looked at the boy who shared his face.
Isaac did not look afraid. The six-year-old mafia heir simply tilted his head, his face lighting up with pure, delighted curiosity. He reached out a small hand, as if wanting to make sure the boy in the cream sweater was real.
The silence around them began to spread, guests slowly noticing the bizarre, identical pairing.
Isaac turned his body away from Evelyn. He looked directly across the room, fixing his gaze on the towering, masculine figure of his father.
"Daddy," Isaac called out, his childish, clear American accent slicing through the sophisticated chatter of the salon with the devastating force of a detonating bomb.
Gabriel turned his head, his dark, swept-back hair catching the light.
Isaac pointed a small finger at Samuel, his voice ringing with bright, innocent excitement.
May you like
"Daddy, can my other me stay?" Isaac asked.
The words echoed off the gilded mirrors. The absolute, unvarnished innocence of the question sent a shockwave of absolute horror through the room. The music playing in the background seemed to fade into nothingness. The entire grand salon froze in time.
