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Story: Power (Sisters of Wrath #3)
Two
L EON
I pulled the blue tie from around my neck and let it drop onto the bed, reaching instead for the sleek black silk one I had initially picked. The silk flowed effortlessly around my neck as I guided it beneath my collar, carefully crafting a flawless knot while observing my reflection in the mirror.
I needed to appear impeccably groomed and composed.
Today held significance, something I wanted everyone, particularly Calista Vitalis, to recognize.
The phone call informing me of her desire to meet and discuss a potential partnership had caught me off guard for a moment.
The concept of arranged marriages was a familiar one in our circles, yet it was something I had never genuinely considered for myself. I had always imagined finding a woman more organically, with things naturally falling into place.
However, the idea of marrying a Vitalis sister was undeniably fascinating. Their family wielded considerable influence, and the recent return of the sisters, after years away, spoke volumes about their resilience and strength.
I had followed the stories of the territories they had reclaimed and the marriages of the other two sisters.
However, I hadn’t realized Calista was contemplating marriage herself.
Given her past, it was unexpected. After enduring the horrific ordeals she had faced, I assumed she would prefer to remain single, allowing herself time to heal. But it seemed I had underestimated her readiness to move forward, to face the world anew.
Clearly, I was wrong.
I was genuinely flattered to be considered a candidate.
When Vik Remes, Calista’s family representative and childhood guardian, invited me to join her for lunch in Glyfada, a charming coastal village just outside of Athens, I jumped at the chance. However, after a week of reflecting on the situation, my mind had become a jumbled mess of confusion.
Determined to prepare myself, I began exploring the extensive history of the Vitalis family, refreshing my memory of their legacy and influence.
The sisters appeared to have inherited not just their father’s name but also his exceptional intelligence and sharp wit. I had met the other two sisters in passing before, and they stood out in my memory as articulate and confident individuals.
I expected meeting Calista would be similar. However, I couldn’t help but wonder if her experiences made her unique.
Her abduction had ignited a storm of news across the syndicates, like a flash fire consuming everything in its path. When she was finally rescued, the whispers about her ordeal were so dark and grim that they lingered in my mind, casting a shadow over my thoughts.
The idea of any woman enduring a harrowing experience like the one Calista had faced ignited an intense fire. This seething fury seared through my veins like a relentless stream.
Yet, reflecting on her ordeal, I couldn’t help but think that Calista might now have a profound depth to her character, a distinctiveness that her sisters might lack.
All three sisters, alongside their devoted caretaker, Vik, had displayed remarkable strength and resilience.
I admired their capacity to rise from the ashes and reclaim what was rightfully theirs with an impressive display of determination.
If anyone could understand the insatiable thirst for vengeance, it was undoubtedly me. I gazed into the mirror, and the reflection staring back was not my own but that of my father. With each passing year, my features seemed to mirror his more and more.
I wondered what he might have felt about this potential alliance, this intertwining of lives and destinies. Yet, I could never be certain whether he would have been in favor or against it.
He, along with the rest of my family, was brutally murdered, their lives extinguished in an act of unspeakable violence.
Everyone I cherished, my parents, my three brothers, their wives, and their innocent children, all ripped from this world in an instant.
The memory of that day hung over me like a dark, unyielding cloud.
The weight of survivor’s guilt pressed down on my shoulders so heavily that at times it felt as though it might crush me entirely.
Before that tragic day, our lives revolved around joyful vacations filled with laughter and warmth.
We spent carefree days on the sun-kissed beach, where the children built sandcastles, their giggles mixing with the sounds of the waves.
Meanwhile, the adults savored wine, spirits lifted as they shared stories and games together late into the night after the kids had gone to sleep.
But everything changed in one afternoon.
I was supposed to join them for lunch that day, but an urgent meeting came up, one I couldn’t ignore.
It was a crucial deal I had spent months negotiating, and I’d finally reached the verge of sealing a contract that would expand our restaurants into a sprawling new mega-resort.
Getting everything signed and sealed meant transforming our fortunes in a way we had never imagined .
The meeting concluded better than anticipated, with the developers inviting us into other ventures.
Eager to share the triumph, I hurried back to my family.
My heart raced with excitement, and I was ready to celebrate. However, when I arrived, everything I knew was destroyed. In my absence, a horrific attack had taken the lives of all of them. The news left me in shock and horror.
Afterward, regret consumed me, a persistent presence suggesting I should have been there.
Maybe I could have protected them. My being there might have changed things. This haunting sense of failure etched itself into my being, a weight I bore daily, as substantial as an iron cloak.
The day everyone I loved died, a piece of my soul withered with them.
Everything that followed felt irrevocably altered, as if the colors of my world had dimmed forever.
Investigations revealed a shocking betrayal. Distant family members, driven by greed, had orchestrated the violence, believing it would grant them control over the family business. They had not anticipated my survival, nor realized the depth of my father’s foresight.
Julius Boscos, my father, was both wise and pragmatic.
Recognizing life’s unpredictability, he taught my brothers and me about business and the art of wielding power.
His teachings became our armor, and even though he was no longer with us, his legacy continued to influence me as I navigated a syndicate world that had been forever altered.
After locating the individuals responsible and ensuring they all faced a fate of immense suffering, I found myself shattered, coming to the painful realization that revenge did little to ease the constant guilt eating away at my soul.
Despite the emptiness left by revenge, I learned to coexist with that void, transforming my agony into a driving force to seize control of the company.
I was just twenty-one, and the world viewed me as too green, too untested.
They were right, in a way.
Yet, countless times, I had been the unseen observer during my father’s tough business negotiations, absorbing more knowledge than most could imagine.
Initially, everyone underestimated me, and truth be told, there were moments when I doubted myself too.
Yet, there were moments when the depths of my ruthlessness caught me off guard.
The pain that had once threatened to consume me became a wellspring of power, enabling me to tackle tough decisions with a steely resolve.
Swift and unrelenting, I mastered the art of dealing with adversaries who dared to challenge me, wielding a blend of precision and keen insight.
I was far from the innocent figure they imagined. Suppressing my conscience during those initial, grueling years allowed me to act without a second thought, decisive and unyielding.
Over time, the legacy of my family not only stabilized but flourished.
Although my reputation suffered, I couldn’t care less.
Being known as ruthless, cold, and unfeeling became an asset. It instilled a sense of caution in others, making them think twice before daring to oppose me. My reputation and the fear it inspired effectively filtered out the weakest among my rivals.
All of this held true until today. The last thing I wanted was for Calista Vitalis to perceive me with fear.
As I stepped out into the crisp air and approached my waiting car, I thought about how to ease her worries over lunch.
While the idea of bringing her comfort filled me with determination, a deep anger churned in my heart for all she’d endured.
I thought of my nieces’ bright, hopeful faces, now lost to time. If they had survived, they would be teetering on the edge of youth. The thought of them facing similar harsh challenges to Calista’s sent a chill down my spine. No woman deserved to bear such cruel burdens.
As the busy streets of Thessaloniki unfolded before me, the cityscape gave way to a breathtaking vista.
The sparkling surface of the Thermaic Gulf unveiled itself, its clear turquoise expanse stretching toward the horizon on a day that promised brilliance.
I pushed aside the distressing images in my mind, resolute in viewing Calista Vitalis not merely as a victim of her history, but as the complete individual standing before me, unmarked by past wounds.
I made a quiet promise to myself to view her solely in the light she presented, rather than through the lens of shared losses and trauma .
I had no desire for her to see me as merely a man defined by sorrow.
Today, I aimed to treat her with nothing less than genuine respect and sincere courtesy.
A few moments later, I entered the grand lobby of the Electra Palace Hotel. I ascended toward the Orizontes Roof Garden, the rooftop restaurant where our meeting was set. Below, Aristotelous Square pulsed with life, while the expansive gulf unfurled like a boundless tapestry behind it.