Chapter 3 - The Unraveling Throne
The gates of the family estate opened slowly,
groaning like the ancient secrets they guarded.
I walked into the grand parlor,
where my mother sat sipping tea,
surrounded by portraits of men who had died for the family name.
She looked up,
a thin smile on her lips,
as if she had been expecting me.
“Dominic,”
she said,
“you look troubled.”
“I saw her,
Mother,”
I said,
tossing the forged medical reports onto the tea table.
The smile didn’t flicker,
but her eyes narrowed,
becoming as cold as the marble floor.
“I saw my daughter,”
“The one you told me would never exist.”
She didn’t deny it,
she didn’t apologize.
“She was a distraction,
Dominic,”
she replied calmly,
setting her cup down with a delicate click.
“A girl from a nobody family,”
“She would have made you soft.”
“The family needed an heir from a strong line,”
“not a love match that would weaken our resolve.”
I looked at her and saw a monster,
a woman who had traded my happiness for a percentage of a construction empire.
“You stole five years from me,”
I said,
my voice a whisper of pure malice.
“You stole my child’s first words,”
“her first steps,”
“and the only woman I ever loved.”
“I did what was necessary,”
she snapped,
standing up to face me.
“You are the Boss because of the choices I made!”
“I am the Boss,”
I corrected her,
stepping into her personal space,
“and as the Boss,
I am stripping you of everything.”
“The accounts,”
“the villa in Tuscany,”
“the security detail,”
“it’s all gone.”
“You will leave this house tonight,”
“and if you ever go near Emily or Rose,”
“I will forget that we share the same blood.”
She gasped,
realizing for the first time that her power had vanished.
I turned my back on her,
leaving her in the shadows of the ancestors she worshipped.
I drove through the night,
pushed by a desperate need to see them again.
I reached the small,
shingled house in the woods just as the sun began to peek over the horizon.
The lights were on in the kitchen.
I didn't bring Michael,
I didn't bring my guards.
I walked to the door and knocked,
my heart hammering against my ribs like a trapped bird.
Julian opened the door,
his face weary but alert.
He saw me and sighed,
stepping aside to let me in.
Emily was at the table,
cutting the crusts off a piece of toast.
Rose was sitting in a high chair,
swinging her legs and humming a song.
The domesticity of it was so sharp it hurt to look at.
“I know everything,”
I said,
standing in the doorway of their kitchen.
“I know what my mother did,”
“and I know why you left.”
Emily didn't look up,
her hands trembling slightly as she held the knife.
“It doesn't change anything,
Dominic,”
she said.
“You believed them over me.”
May you like
“You looked me in the eye and told me I was useless to you.”
“How do I forgive the man who threw me away?”
