Page 16 of Fire and Silk

But that wasn’t the part that changed the game.

That came after.

When the lawyer stood in my father’s study—oak-paneled, sealed tight with blood—and said,There is a fourth heir.

I remember the moment clearly, the way his voice faltered slightly, like he was afraid the sentence itself would tear open something feral. We were standing in my father’s study. Dust still on the desk, ash in the fireplace, the scent of cigars that would never be smoked again clinging to the curtains like bad memories.

The air shifted when he said it. A fourth heir.

Not Maksim. Not me. Not his twin sister and my half-sister Mina.

Someone else.

I didn’t know who. Neither did the lawyer—not fully. Just fragments, hints, records half-buried under layers of sealed files. But he knew there was a woman. Someone my father had sworn a private vow to. Someone he'd instructed the lawyer—years ago—to prepare a deed for. Not in his official register, not even through the firm.

Chiara Falco, the name read.

I’d never heard of her. But I’d seen the way my father sometimes looked east when no one was watching. Like he was still haunted by a ghost with teeth.

The lawyer didn’t want to say more. Said it was sealed. That his hands were tied.

So, I untied them.

It turned out he had a little problem at the casino in Hobart. Owed money to a man who didn’t care about interest rates—only digits and blood. I made that debt vanish in one night. Quietly. No police. No threats.

Just a phone call and a promise that no one would lose fingers.

By the end of that week, the lawyer handed me a folder.

Inside: a scanned deed with my father’s signature. And then name Chiara Falco in cursive. And the clause—all I own, assigned to her or her direct heir, irrevocable upon my death.

I traced her.

She’d gone back to Italy years ago. Married a banker. Lived quietly. Died suddenly.

Only one surviving child.

That’s when the pieces slid into place. Every problem with Maksim, every challenge to my position—all of it could vanish if I turned her into a cornerstone instead of a variable.

She had no idea who she was. No idea what she carried. And that made herperfect.

And now here she is. Beneath my estate. Asleep in my bed. Still dreaming she’s powerless.

She’ll wake up soon. She’ll scream. And then I’ll tell her:

You are the key.

You just don’t know it yet.

“Brother,” I say, spreading my hands like some kind of martyr, “you’re accusing me of wild things. Smuggling. Sabotage. Deception. What next—witchcraft?”

Maksim’s jaw tightens.

I take a slow step toward him, all innocent charm and warm irony. “I promise you, once we find the fourth heir… we’ll settle everything accordingly. Like gentlemen. Like blood.”

His eyes darken, and I watch the way his fists curl—like he’s fighting the urge to bury one in my throat.

“This isn’t over,” he growls. “I will deal with you, Severo. Even if I have to rip this empire out of your hands one bone at a time.”