Page 38 of Fire and Silk

I’m already smiling as the door clicks shut behind him.

I recline into the chair once more, stretching out as the scotch burns its way down my throat. The flames from the fireplace cast long shadows across the floor, and the broken tissue—now stained with dried blood—sits like a crown on the table beside me.

“Now,” I murmur to no one, my grin widening as the calm folds around me, “how much fun can this get?”

I open the drawer and pull the letter out like it’s a joke I’ve read a thousand times but still laugh at. Thick parchment, brittle at the edges. My father’s handwriting, uneven and impatient, stares back at me. He always wrote like the world was ending and the ink was trying to outrun him.

I lean against the edge of the desk, one arm folded, the other dangling the page. I don’t even have to read it, not really—I’ve memorized every word. Still, I trace the beginning with my eyes, like an old ritual.

If any of my children are reading this…

You must be irritated with me.

Well. At least the bastard was honest.

Forgive this old man who has been a nuisance in life and death. I was once young like you all. I met a woman I loved and I eloped with her to Australia for a fresh start...

Chiara Benedetti. Pale skin, the mouth of a poet, and a heart made of glass. I loved her. Until I hated her. Until I loved her again.

We were starving. Then we were bleeding money. Then we were just bleeding. The Mafia fixed our lives until it broke them.

She lost our child. And I lost her.

I sigh. Dramatic to the end.

She left Australia. But I vowed everything I ever owned would be hers. Her children are my heirs. Equal. Deserved. Worn like scars across the skin of my legacy.

I gave her a deed. She will give it to her children. And when that happens, I hope you all survive it.

I crack my neck and skim to the clause—the part everyone cares about.

Legal Addendum (Signed, Stamped, and Ratified in Two Nations):

?Chiara Benedetti’s child is entitled to the entire Dantès estate—properties, titles, assets, and control of all syndicate holdings—on one condition:

?They must be legally married into the Dantès bloodline.

?Only through marriage can they be considered family, and only family can claim what I built.

?Should the heir choose not to marry into the family, they may instead submit the deed and forfeit direct control. The estate will then default to my firstborn son, Maksim Dantès, who will receive 80% of the holdings. The remaining 20% shall belong to Severo Leontis Dantès, for his biological right and documented disinterest in succession.

?Until said heir is identified and verified, the physically present male child will serve as interim executor, with full rights to manage, sign, and transact estate matters—without permanent ownership.

?Should the heir choose to wager their claim—by challenge, by contract, or by force—they accept that the outcome is legally binding.

I lower the page. I already knew this. Memorized it. Still. Reading it feels like lighting a match and watching the edges curl.

So, she has to marry one of us.

And Maksim is too much of a rabid dog to pull it off.

I press my thumb to the corner of the paper, tracing the ink like it’s a signature carved into skin.

I know I did a terrible job raising you all to love each other. I only hope you can hate each other with grace.

My lips curl into a grin.

"Oh padre… naturalmente saremo amichevoli."