Chapter 4 - The House of Broken Glass
The Valenti estate was a fortress of limestone and secrets,
sitting on the edge of the Atlantic like a predator waiting for a storm.
I drove through the gates at nearly a hundred miles an hour,
the tires screaming against the gravel as I skidded to a halt in front of the grand entrance.
I didn't wait for the guards to open the door.
I kicked it open,
the heavy oak slamming against the wall with a sound that brought the household staff running.
"Dominic!"
my mother’s voice called out from the top of the grand staircase.
She was wrapped in silk,
holding a glass of sherry,
looking every bit the matriarch of a dynasty built on blood.
"You’re late for dinner,
my son."
"Did the Judge give you any trouble?"
I didn't speak until I reached the top of the stairs,
my breathing heavy,
my eyes burning with a light she had never seen before.
I pulled the fake medical report from my pocket and threw it at her feet.
"How much did you pay Dr. Aris?"
I asked,
my voice a low,
lethal vibration.
She didn't even look down at the paper.
She simply took a sip of her sherry and smiled.
"I did what was necessary for the lineage,
Dominic."
"That girl was a weakness."
"She would have given you daughters and soft hearts."
"The Valentis need iron."
I reached out and grabbed the railing,
my knuckles white,
the rage vibrating through my entire body.
"She gave me a daughter,
Mother."
"A daughter with the black-and-gold eyes of my father."
"A daughter you tried to kill with a lie."
The sherry glass slipped from her hand,
shattering on the marble floor into a thousand sparkling shards.
For the first time in my life,
I saw fear in her eyes.
"She...
she had a child?"
"Yes,"
I spat,
stepping into her space until she was forced to lean back against the wall.
"And she is under the protection of Julian Vane."
"Because of you,"
"the Valenti heir is being raised by our greatest enemy."
"Because of you,"
"I have missed five years of my daughter’s life."
I leaned in closer,
my voice dropping to a whisper that was more terrifying than a shout.
"Pack your things."
"You are leaving this estate tonight."
"You will go to the villa in Sicily,"
"and you will never,"
"ever,"
"step foot in America again."
"If I see your face,"
"if I hear your voice,"
"I will forget that you are my mother."
She tried to speak,
to plead the tradition,
to plead the family name,
but I turned my back on her.
I walked back down the stairs,
the sound of my boots on the marble sounding like the march of an army.
The Valenti family was broken,
yes.
May you like
But I was going to spend the rest of my life putting it back together,
starting with the woman I had left in the rain.
