Chapter 3
Rafael stared down at the succession papers. The typed name of his nine-year-old nephew mocked him in the bright, unforgiving light of the chandeliers. The betrayal was total. It was not just an insult; it was a highly coordinated coup orchestrated by his own mother and sister right under his roof.
"You went to the family attorneys without my authorization," Rafael said softly, rising from his knee and standing at his full, imposing height. "You forged a succession plan to bypass my bloodline."
"I did what was necessary for the survival of the Castellano name!" Beatrice snapped, her pearls clicking against her collarbone as she leaned forward. "We are surrounded by wolves, Rafael! The Chicago syndicates are waiting for a moment of weakness, and you are parading it in front of them with a medical brace! This family requires a strong, capable heir."
"And you think Julian is that heir?" Rafael asked, his dark eyes shifting to Valeria, who was still standing near the fallen child with a smug expression on her face.
"My son has the strength of his grandfather," Valeria boasted, taking a step closer to the table, emboldened by her mother’s backing. "He doesn't weep on the floor. He isn't defective. We are merely correcting a mistake that you refuse to acknowledge."
"You think this is strength?" Rafael murmured, adjusting the cuffs of his crisp dress shirt. "Tearing a brace off a five-year-old girl? You think this makes you a leader, Valeria?"
"It makes me a realist!" Valeria shouted, her fair skin flushing with arrogant defiance. "Someone had to show you the truth!"
Rafael moved faster than the eye could track. With terrifying, explosive power, he lunged forward and delivered one brutal, open-handed slap directly across Valeria’s face.
The sound cracked like a gunshot through the dining room. The sheer, overwhelming force of the blow snapped Valeria’s head violently sideways. Her eyes rolled back as she staggered uncontrollably backward, her high heels catching on the marble floor. She crashed heavily into the extravagant birthday cake table, her body collapsing among the shattered crystal platters, crushed frosting, and fallen decorations.
"Valeria!" Beatrice screamed, her hands slamming down on the mahogany table as she half-rose from her seat.
Julian let out a terrified shriek, shrinking back into his chair as his mother lay groaning among the ruined cake. The family bodyguards tensed, their hands instinctively dropping to their holstered weapons, but a single, lethal glare from Rafael froze them in their tracks.
May you like
Rafael did not look at the whimpering woman on the floor. He turned his attention back to the matriarch. Beatrice pointed a shaking, furious finger toward the succession papers resting on the table, refusing to back down even in the face of absolute violence.
"Sign!" Beatrice demanded, her voice ringing with cold, desperate authority. "Sign the papers, Rafael! The family needs a stronger heir, and I will not let you destroy us!"
