Page 20 of Accidental Alliance

The whole property looks less like a home and more like a fortress built expecting enemies to siege the front steps at every hour.

I have seen this place in every season, in every mood, under summer heats and winter frosts, yet tonight, it looks more somber than it ever has.

The guards at the gate nod once as I pass through, armed silhouettes standing rigid beneath the lights.

Their faces give away nothing.

Their eyes avert almost immediately as my car pulls through. They know better than to question the underboss returning before dawn from somewhere unknown.

In this house, curiosity is a vice people lose fingers for if indulged too openly.

Men who work for my family have all learned quickly that silence is often more valuable than openly unchecked curiosity.

Still, I feel their awareness on the car as I drive by.

The long drive curves toward the main house. The estate rises in front of me, every window lit from within.

The structure of this place has always been meant to impress and intimidate in equal measure.

My grandfather designed it that way, or so I was told.

Every security camera tucked into shadowed corners, every reinforced entry point hidden beneath Old-World looking luxury, is meant to remind guests that while they may be welcomed in, they will never truly be safe here.

I kill the engine as soon as I reach the front car park, my body sagging back into the seat for a few seconds as silence falls over me.

Allowing myself a few moments of reprieve before stepping into the chaos I know is waiting for me inside those doors is staving off the inevitable.

However long I sit here and dwell will not save me from having to soon deal with both my father and brother’s questions.

I let out a slow exhale through my nose before popping the driver’s side door open.

Before I can even step fully out of the car, two of my family’s attendants emerge from the side entrance with polished efficiency.

Their hands are already reaching for the car keys by the time I finally shut the door behind me, a silent understanding passing between us that they will pull the vehicle around to the secured garage and make sure it is ready again the moment I need it.

I pass by them with little acknowledgment other than to hand my keys over.

The main doors are open when I reach them and step through them. The shift in atmosphere hits me instantly the second I cross the threshold.

Inside, the estate is buzzing with tension.

The marble foyer gleams beneath the chandeliers, polished and immaculate as always, but the quiet luxury that is usually draped over this place has been ripped away and replaced with stress that feels suffocating.

Staff move briskly through the corridors with trays of coffee, fresh glasses, food, and whatever else has been requested from those above them.

Lita, one of my favorite housekeepers, passes by me without acknowledgement.

Her hair is half pinned up in a messy style, pieces of it falling around her face as though she had barely any time to make herself look presentable before someone barked for her downstairs.

Junior housekeepers follow after her in a tight cluster, all of their eyes pinned to the floor until reaching me.

Their heads turn subtly in my direction for a few seconds, a few eyes widening in my direction.

This house runs on control, on ritual, on the illusion that every piece of it moves according to design without flaw—outside or otherwise.

The underboss returning at this hour means whatever rumor had been spread to drag everyone out of bed has now been made real. It means the problem is no longer contained within the sealed walls of our war room.

Now that the heads of the family are involved this outrightly, the danger for our futures can no longer be denied.