The conference room was quiet except for the hum of the air conditioning.
"Ezio," Hart spoke, his voice echoing in the empty room. "Today's meeting is to finalize your succession."
I nodded.
"Your father's been dead three years." He continued. "By the rules, the heir should complete succession within a year. But you've dragged it out for three. During these three years, there've been many voices in the family. Some support you, but others question your ability—whether you have enough courage and wisdom to lead the family to greater strength."
I narrowed my eyes slightly. My brain, exhausted from the all-nighter, suddenly cleared.
Since my father died, Hart had been my supporter. But now, what was this old fox getting at? Turning on me at the last minute?
But now wasn't the time to confront him. Until I figured out his angle, I could only watch and wait.
"Ezio, you've done some things. Expanding territory on the East Coast, the Chicago agreement, we've all seen it. But..." Hart paused, looking at me. "But a true family head doesn't just handle business. He knows how to balance internal family relationships, how to maintain the family's reputation and interests. And you—"
"What haven't I done well enough?" I asked, voice flat.
"Your marriage," Hart said. "The engagement party cancellation brought relations between Visconti and Colonna to a freezing point. You arbitrarily married some woman of unknown origins, made the family elders lose face. These—all failures as an heir."
I frowned.
True, when my alliance with the Colonna family fell through yearsago, the family took massive losses. But I'd handled the cleanup, recovered the lost interests from other projects, even pushed the group's stock up several points. These old bastards profited plenty, which was why they finally let it go.
But now, a year and a half later, why bring it up again?
I looked sideways at Hart. He was looking at me, too, those old eyes clear, not clouded. Right now, they gleamed with calculation.
I asked without showing my hand. "What do you mean, Elder Hart?"
"Word came from the Colonnas." Elder Hart stared at me, his tone meaningful. "Bianca Colonna is pregnant."
I froze.
"What?"
"Bianca's pregnant," Hart repeated, a hint of amusement in those old eyes. "Your child. Old man Colonna called himself, made it very clear—the child is Visconti blood. They want the marriage completed soon."
My mind went blank for a moment.
Bianca was pregnant?
When did that happen?
I didn't remember being with her.
Then I remembered that night.
Three months ago. The night I got blackout drunk because of Olivia. Because the way she looked at me kept getting colder, because she kept growing more distant, because I didn't know how the hell to get close to her. I drank too much, so much the last memory was all blur.
Woke up the next morning, Bianca was lying naked next to me.
My head was a mess then. Didn't think much of it. Or rather, didn't dare think about it.
"I don't remember—" I started.
"Of course you don't remember." Hart cut me off, his tone carrying that patronizing elder's teasing. "Men, you know. Drink too much, wake up the next day remembering nothing. But that doesn't matter.What matters is the Colonnas claim this child, and we claim it too. Now both family elders agree. Just waiting for you to nod."
I stared at him.
