“It means,” my uncle said, speaking for the first time, “when disputes happen between sets, between crews, between families, they are brought to us. When money moves through ports and warehouses, it passes through channels we built. When politicians need neighborhoods to stay quiet, they speak to men who speak to us.”
I felt my pulse in my ears.
“You’re telling me my family runs gangs?”
“We run structure,” my grandfather corrected calmly. “Gangs are reckless. We built order. We built hierarchy. We built an empire that does not crumble because one man is emotional.”
“And you kept that from me?” I asked, looking at my father.
“We kept you away from blood,” he said. “You have no idea how many retaliations were postponed because you were alive.”
The room went silent after that.
My stomach dropped slowly instead of all at once.
“What does that even mean?”
“It means your existence prevented war,” my grandfather said. “The Delacroix’s and the Laveaus have not been aligned in decades. There were killings. There were betrayals. There were losses on both sides.”
The name hit.
Delacroix.
“They are not simply a rival family,” my father continued. “They are the European branch of an international network. Ports in France. Real estate holdings across Italy. Shipping routes that move more than luxury goods.”
“And we’ve been at war with them?”
“Cold war,” my uncle answered. “Long, quiet, expensive.”
My mouth felt dry.
“And you think marrying me one of them fixes that?”
“It does more than fix it,” my grandfather said. “It seals it. Blood to blood. Heir to heir.”
I looked at my father as if I didn’t recognize him.
“So this is strategy?”
“This is survival,” he said.
“You’ve survived just fine without me.”
“Barely,” he replied, and that honesty irritated me more than if he had lied. “The older generation are dying. The younger men are impatient. Violence is easier than diplomacy. A marriage binds what contracts cannot.”
“And I’m the contract.”
“You are the bridge,” my grandfather corrected.
“No,” I snapped. “I’m a body.”
“You are the only daughter of the Laveau bloodline,” he said firmly. “Your brothers carry the name forward in power. You carry it forward in permanence.”
The words felt rehearsed.
Like this had been decided before I ever knew who I was.
“You bred me for this,” I said, my voice shaking now despite how hard I was trying to stay steady. “You let me think I had choices. I think you are all more full of shit than I thought.”
