Chapter 7
The bright, cinematic colors of the engagement reception—the vivid floral arrangements, the sparkling crystal, the elegant gowns—felt like a surreal, mocking backdrop to the brutal unraveling of a mafia coup. The betrayal was no longer a suspicion; it was a confessed reality, screamed across the marble floors of the Sterling estate.
"She is lying to save her own skin!" Andre bellowed, spit flying from his lips as he desperately tried to salvage his life. "She approached me! She told me you were becoming soft, Darius! She said you were obsessing over the boy and neglecting the family's core business! I only humored her to gather evidence against her!"
"You gathered evidence by preparing the boats to dump my body in the river?" Darius asked. His voice remained perfectly, terrifyingly calm. The extremely short, neatly trimmed stubble along his jawline bristled as he clenched his teeth.
"I had to play along!" Andre pleaded, his ebony skin pale with sheer terror. "Darius, we are cousins! We grew up together! You know I would never betray you!"
Darius slowly removed his hands from his pockets. He raised his right hand, the artistic, refined tattoos on his fingers and hand starkly visible under the bright natural lighting. He inspected his nails for a brief, agonizing moment, letting the silence crush the air out of his cousin's lungs.
"You have always been ambitious, Andre," Darius murmured, his low voice carrying a heavy, sorrowful weight that quickly hardened into ice. "But you have never been smart. You mistake my quiet for weakness. You mistake my love for my son as a distraction."
Darius turned his cold, sharp eyes fully onto his older cousin.
"I built this empire on discipline," Darius stated, the controlled pauses emphasizing every lethal syllable. "I kept you alive because of our blood. I gave you power because of our name. And you repay me by plotting my murder with a woman who despises my child."
"Darius, please," Andre begged, dropping to his knees, his expensive tailored suit wrinkling against the marble floor. The proud, senior Mafia capo was reduced to a groveling mess. "I'll leave the country. I'll surrender all my territories to you. Just let me walk out of here."
Darius looked down at the man kneeling before him. He felt absolutely no pity. The image of Evelyn ripping the hearing aid from his son's ear flashed in his mind. They hadn't just plotted against him; they had tortured his boy.
"Sarah," Darius called out, without taking his eyes off his cousin.
"Yes, Mr. Sterling," the housekeeper answered immediately, keeping Malik tucked safely against her side.
"Take my son upstairs to his playroom," Darius ordered, his tone softening only for a fraction of a second. "Lock the heavy doors. Do not open them until I come for you."
"Yes, sir," Sarah nodded. She took Malik's hand. "Come on, sweetie. Let's go play with your new toys."
Malik looked at his father, his big brown eyes filled with trust. "Are you going to be okay, Dad?"
May you like
Darius offered a small, reassuring smile, a fleeting glimpse of the charming, romantic man he could be. "I am going to be fine, Malik. Go with Sarah."
As the heavy oak doors of the reception hall closed behind his son, Darius’s smile vanished completely. The father was gone. Only the warlord remained.
