"What council?" I asked, crossing my arms.
He took a slow sip, then turned. "Marco has been summoned."
My eyes narrowed. "Summoned? For what?"
"The Bratva council," he said, setting his glass down. "They've called a final tribunal. They want him to answer for what happened during the last shipment."
I frowned. "That was months ago. Why now?"
"Because he ignored their warnings. They think he's trying to cut a deal with the Italians behind their backs."
My stomach twisted. "And if he refuses to go?"
Mikhail's cold and steady eyes met mine. "Then it means war."
I blinked. "War? You can't be serious."
"I'm always serious," he said quietly. "If your father doesn't face them this time, they'll strip him of his position."
"Good," I snapped. "Let them. He deserves it."
But Mikhail didn't flinch. "If that happens, the seat falls to you."
For a moment, I didn't breathe. "What?"
"You heard me," he said, his tone calm but firm. "You're his blood and his only heir. If he loses his place, they'll come to you."
I shook my head quickly. "No, no. That's not happening. I want nothing to do with that man's empire."
Mikhail stepped closer, and his voice was low. "It doesn't matter what you want. Blood decides, not choice."
My heart pounded. "You think I can just sit in his seat like nothing happened? After everything he's done to me?"
He sighed, rubbing a hand over his face. "You don't understand how this world works. The council doesn't care about feelings; they care about loyalty."
"Then they'll be disappointed," I said bitterly. "Because I have none left."
Mikhail looked at me for a long time, and something dark passed through his eyes. "Then you'd better hope he faces them," he said softly.
I swallowed hard. "And if he doesn't?"
His gaze didn't waver. "Then you'll have to."
The air between us turned heavy, and I took a step back, shaking my head. "I can't do that. I won't."
Mikhail's voice dropped to a whisper. "You might not have a choice."
For once, I couldn't find an answer. The thought of being forced to replace the father who abandoned me chilled me more than any threat of war ever could.
And in that silence, I realized the real battle was only just beginning.
I couldn't sleep. The clock kept ticking, loud enough to remind me how restless I'd become. Mikhail's words replayed in my head over and over again, "Marco has been summoned. If he refuses, the seat falls to you."
I wanted to pretend it didn't matter, that none of it could touch me anymore, but it did. It always did. The air in the penthouse felt heavy, too thick to breathe, so I stepped out onto the balcony. The city stretched below, glittering like broken glass. The wind was sharp against my skin, carrying the scent of rain and the echo of sirens far away.
I closed my eyes and let it sting. Maybe I deserve it, or maybe I deserve the cold for even thinking of trusting a man like Mikhail.
I thought of Giovanni, his laughter, his stubbornness, his blood pooling on the floor the night everything ended. I thought of my mother's voice fading like smoke. I thought of the girl I used to be before power and death became the only language I understood.
