Chapter 3 - The Bloodline Decree
The rain did not stop, but the world seemed to freeze around us. The word daughter hung in the heavy, freezing air, sharp enough to cut through the thunder. I stood beneath Roman’s oversized coat, the scent of cedar and tobacco wrapping around my shivering frame, while my hands remained locked over my stomach. My baby kicked again—a sharp, desperate flutter as if she, too, understood that her existence had just rewritten the destiny of the Kane empire.
Vivienne Kane’s elegant facade did not shatter; it dissolved like ash. The black silk of her gown, usually so imposing, suddenly made her look like a widow mourning her own survival. She reached out, her manicured fingers trembling as she tried to touch the edges of the document Roman held.
"It was a forgery," she hissed, her voice losing its melodic, aristocratic edge and turning into something desperate and animalistic. "Your father was losing his mind in those final weeks, Roman! He was delusional. He wanted to punish me. He wanted to destroy everything we built by leaving the entire syndicate to an unborn girl? To a child who hasn't even proven she can survive our world?"
Roman didn't flinch. He didn't raise his voice. He simply handed the document to his security chief, Matteo, a man who had served the family for twenty years.
"Verify the seal," Roman commanded.
Matteo took the paper, his eyes scanning the embossed wax and the unmistakable, jagged signature of the late patriarch, Arthur Kane. When Matteo looked up, his face was pale. "It’s authentic, boss. It’s the original codicil. Signed, witnessed by the old firm in London, and notarized before his passing. It was never meant to be hidden."
"She hid it because she knew," Roman said, turning his gaze back to his mother. The coldness in his grey eyes was absolute. "You didn't order your women to shave Bianca's head out of disgust for Queens, mother. You did it because you thought if you broke her spirit, if you forced her into early labor in the freezing rain, the baby wouldn't survive. And if my daughter died, the empire would remain yours to manipulate through me."
A collective gasp rippled through the courtyard. The guards, men who had sworn oaths to the Kane family for generations, shifted their weight. They were men of honor, bound by a brutal but strict code. Shaving a pregnant woman’s head and throwing her into a storm to cause a miscarriage wasn't business; it was a sacrilege.
"Roman, please," Vivienne stepped forward, her voice dropping to a harsh whisper, trying to appeal to the monster she had raised. "Think of the family. The Chicago syndicate, the Bratva in New York—they are waiting for a moment of weakness. If they find out a pregnant girl from a pharmacy in Queens holds the keys to the Kane kingdom, they will tear us apart. I did what was necessary to protect you!"
"You protected your throne," I forced the words out of my throat. My voice was raspy, my chest burning from the cold air, but I forced myself to stand straight. I pushed Roman’s coat back just enough so Vivienne could see the raw, uneven patches on my scalp where her maids had used dull shears. "You didn't care about the syndicate. You cared that you wouldn't be able to control me."
Roman turned to me instantly, his expression softening into an agony of guilt and rage. He scooped me up into his arms, lifting me effortlessly against his chest. I was heavy, eight months pregnant and soaked to the bone, but he held me as if I were made of glass.
"Get the doctor inside," Roman roared at the staff. "Clear the master suite. If I see a single trace of my mother’s presence in that room, I will burn this house down with everyone in it."
"Roman!" Vivienne shrieked as he walked past her, ignoring her entirely. "You cannot cast me out! I am a Kane!"
May you like
"Not anymore," Roman replied without looking back. "Matteo, lock her in the western guest cottage. Strip her of her phones, her jewelry, and her access to the family accounts. If she attempts to contact outside counsel or any of our captains, treat her as an enemy of the family."
As Roman carried me through the grand double doors of the mansion, the warmth of the foyer hit my freezing skin, causing me to convulse with violent shivers. But beneath the physical pain, a dark, simmering realization took root. The war wasn't over. By revealing the will, Roman had saved my life tonight, but he had just placed a target on our unborn daughter's back that could be seen from across the Atlantic.
