Chapter 4
The banquet ended early. The guests, terrified by the sudden display of familial fracture, offered their hurried respects and vanished into the night. Within an hour, the grand ballroom was empty, save for the cleaning staff and the heavily armed men securing the perimeter.
Marcus sat behind the massive mahogany desk in his private study. His unbuttoned shirt revealed the steady, calm rise and fall of his chest. He poured two fingers of amber bourbon into a crystal glass, staring at the liquid.
The heavy oak door opened, and Aaliyah walked in. Her formal dress rustled softly as she took a seat across from him. Jamal stood by the door, his posture rigid and protective.
"Is Zariah asleep?" Marcus asked, his voice low and smooth.
"Finally," Aaliyah sighed, rubbing her temples. "She cried for an hour. She doesn't understand why Aunt Eleanor hates her so much. Why did you let it escalate, Dad? You knew Eleanor was trying to provoke you."
"I needed them to see it," Marcus replied, taking a slow sip of his bourbon. "Eleanor wasn't acting alone today, Aaliyah. That stunt in the ballroom wasn't just a bitter old woman acting out. It was a calculated message to the traditionalist capos."
Jamal stepped forward, his dark brown face tight with concern. "A message saying what, Uncle Marcus? That you're weak because you care about us?"
"Exactly that, Jamal," Marcus nodded, his cold eyes locking onto the teenager. "Eleanor wants the seat at the head of the table. She believes my modern approach, my 'adoptions,' make me unfit to lead the syndicate. She kicked that chair to see if the old guard would stand with her."
"Did they?" Aaliyah asked, her voice dropping to a fearful whisper.
"They stayed silent," Marcus said, placing his glass down. "Which is worse than standing against me. Silence means they are waiting to see who bleeds first."
The intercom on Marcus’s desk buzzed sharply.
May you like
"Boss," his head of security, Silas, spoke through the speaker. "We have a problem. Eleanor didn't go back to her estate. Our tail tracked her car. She went straight to the industrial district. She's sitting down with the Romanov brothers."
Marcus’s jaw tightened. The Romanovs were their biggest rivals. The shadow war had just begun.
