Chapter 7 - The Shadows of the Past
Two weeks later.
The spring sun had finally returned to Blackwood Bay, burning away the coastal fog and flooding the master wing of the estate with warm, golden light.
The nursery—a massive room adjacent to our bedroom that had once been an empty art gallery—had been completely transformed. The white cold walls were now painted a soft sage green, filled with custom mahogany cribs, soft wool rugs, and floor-to-ceiling windows that looked out over the blue expanse of the ocean.
I sat in a large leather rocking chair near the window, wearing a soft cotton shirt with the sleeves rolled up to my elbows.
In my left arm lay Julian, who was fast asleep after his morning feeding; in my right arm lay Clara, who was wide awake, staring up at my face with big, bright blue eyes that were slowly shifting into the dark, stormy grey of my own.
The heavy door opened softly, and Dante stepped inside, wearing his dark suit. He paused at the threshold, looking at me holding two infants in a rocking chair, a strange, hesitant expression on his scarred face.
"Boss," Dante whispered, keeping his voice down so as not to wake Julian. "We have a visitor at the main gate."
I didn't move. "Who?"
"It’s Marcus Sterling," Dante replied in a low tone. "The head of the East Coast Syndicate Council."
My brow furrowed slightly. Marcus Sterling was the premier mafia elder of the region—a seventy-year-old titan who hadn't left his estate in Boston for five years. If he was standing at my front gate, it meant the entire underworld was vibrating from the total destruction of the Vane family two weeks ago.
"Did he bring an escort?" I asked.
"Just his driver and his legal counsel," Dante said. "He asked for an audience with the man who wiped out a council member in forty-eight hours."
I looked down at Clara, who let out a tiny, soft coo, her little fingers tangling in the fabric of my shirt sleeve.
Four weeks ago, I would have handed the children to a nurse, put on my bulletproof vest, and walked down to the courtyard with a squad of ten heavy riflemen to show Marcus Sterling who owned the territory.
Now, I simply leaned back in the rocking chair and rocked slowly.
"Tell him to come up," I said flatly.
Dante blinked, clearly surprised. "Up here? To the master wing?"
"To the nursery, Dante," I corrected him smoothly. "If Marcus Sterling wants to speak with the head of the Drake family, he can come to where the family lives."
Five minutes later, the door opened again.
Marcus Sterling stepped into the room. He was an old man with silver hair, carrying a gold-topped mahogany cane, his sharp blue eyes sweeping over the room—taking in the soft green paint, the plush toys, the baby monitors, and the terrifying mob boss sitting in a rocking chair with two sleeping newborns in his arms.
The elder mafia leader stood motionless for five full seconds, his mouth opening slightly before he caught himself.
"Cassian," Marcus said, his deep, raspy voice echoing softly against the wood paneling. "I expected to find you in your war room planning the seizure of Vane’s docks."
"The docks were seized three days ago by my legal team, Marcus," I replied calmly, not bothering to stand up. "They are currently being converted into a commercial shipping terminal under my foundation."
Marcus leaned on his cane, looking down at the two babies in my arms. A long, nostalgic sigh escaped his chest.
"I remember when my son was that small," the old man murmured, his harsh features softening for a brief second. "Thirty years ago. Before the wars, before the money... before I forgot why I started fighting in the first place."
"Why are you here, Marcus?" I asked, keeping my tone polite but firm.
Marcus looked up, meeting my eyes with serious intensity. "The Council was angry when you executed Victor Vane without a formal tribunal. They wanted me to sanction a hit on your shipping lines to teach you a lesson about order."
"And?"
"And then I read the report from Grace Memorial Hospital," Marcus said softly. "I saw what Vane did. I saw that he sent armed men into a maternity ward to hunt a mother and newborn infants."
The old man stepped closer, resting his hand on the wooden frame of Julian’s crib.
"The Council is old, Cassian, but we are not animals," Marcus said with absolute authority. "Vane crossed a line that protects all of us. I called a vote this morning. The Vane territory is officially dissolved. Your actions have been ratified by the Syndicate as a legitimate act of family defense."
He pulled a small, heavy velvet pouch from his coat pocket and set it gently on the side table beside my chair.
"A gift from the Council for the twins," Marcus said. "Two solid gold coins minted in 1920 by my grandfather. A sign of permanent immunity. No man under our flag will ever step within a mile of your family again."
I looked at the gold coins, then up at the old man who had spent fifty years in the dark world I had just stepped back from.
"Thank you, Marcus," I said quietly.
May you like
The old man nodded slowly, took one last look at the sleeping infants, and turned toward the door.
"Enjoy them, Cassian," Marcus paused at the doorway, looking back over his shoulder with a faint, bittersweet smile. "The empire is easy to build. The family... that’s the part that takes a real man."
