Chapter 10 - The Gathering of the Global Lords
The threat crystallized faster than we could prepare.
At thirty-two weeks, my body gave out. I was confined to the bed, connected to an IV line that pumped synthetic nutrients into my bloodstream to keep the triplets from starving my own organs. My hair was damp with sweat, my lips cracked, but my mind remained perfectly sharp. I refused to let the pain make me a victim again.
Adrian didn't hide the truth from me anymore. He brought the war room into my master bedroom.
A massive digital map was projected onto the wall opposite my bed, showing the shipping lanes, the safehouses, and the sudden influx of foreign assets into the city. Three major global heads had arrived in Manhattan under diplomatic covers: Bratva leader Nikolai Volkov, French syndicate head Jean-Luc Moreau, and the Yakuza boss Kuroda.
"They've formed a coalition," Adrian explained, pointing to the glowing red markers on the map. "They call it the Trinity Accord. They aren't trying to destroy the Blackwood syndicate anymore. They want to force a treaty where my children are divided. One for Moscow, one for Tokyo, one stays here, under joint supervision."
I let out a harsh, dry laugh from the bed. "They want to divide my babies before they are even born?"
"They think they have the leverage," Adrian said, his jaw clenching so hard a muscle ticked violently beneath his scarred cheek. "They've locked down our European shipping lines. They're draining our liquidity. They think if they starve the empire, I will sign the agreement to save the family."
"And what are you going to do?" my mother asked from her corner, her fingers tracing the edge of her old ledger.
Adrian reached into his coat and pulled out a heavy, platinum signet ring—the seal of the Blackwood Sovereign, an honor that hadn't been used since his grandfather's rule.
"I'm calling a Summit," Adrian announced, his voice turning into ice. "Tomorrow night. In the grand ballroom of the safehouse. If they want to see the future of the Blackwood line, I will let them look at it from the edge of my blade."
He walked over to me, leaning down to press a soft, lingering kiss against my forehead. "They think you are a waitress from Queens, Vivien. They think you are a fragile girl who will weep when the guns come out. Show them who you are."
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"I'll be there," I said, my fingers digging into the mattress as a sharp, sudden contraction rippled through my abdomen. I forced my face to remain completely neutral, swallowing the scream before it could reach my lips. "I will be there to look them in the eyes when they realize they can't have a single drop of my blood."
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