Page 89 of Unforgiving Queen

“How did you end up with Angelo Leone?”

“I sought him out,” she murmured. “Angelo always wanted what Tomaso had. It helped that his wife was sickly and unable to get pregnant. I worked it all out.”

The whole thing made me fucking sick. “I’m guessing Hiroshi helped you.”

She nodded. He had loved her a long time and would always help her, even at great personal cost.

“If Angelo knew you were Romero’s son, he would have had us killed.”

“You could have gone back to Ojisan,” I pointed out. “You could have raised me in Japan.”

She shook her head. “My brother would have found a way to eliminate you the moment his son was born.”

She had an answer for everything. “And Romero?”

A long silence stretched between us, creeping its icy fingers through the air. Each tick of the clock made it feel like hours. I watched as my mother’s hands trembled.

“If he’d known about you, he would have taken you from me,” she whispered. “I couldn’t lose you too.”

She’d lost him. She wanted to keep me. Even at the cost of Angelo Leone’s torture. I should hate her, yet I couldn’t, because despite all the fucked-up shit, I loved my brother. We might not be related by blood and the little shit might be attempting to steal my woman, but I still loved him.

It was hard to erase our history with a simple birth certificate.

“Did you know about Reina?” I guarded my expression while studying hers.

“What about her?” Her features remained blank. Did she really not know? It was difficult to trust her, and my sixth sense warned me to keep my cards close to my heart.

I decided to change the subject. “Why Leone? He put us all through hell.”

“So you’d learn about the Omertà.” She made her way back to her seat and lowered herself into it, her back straight and tense. “So you could be close to it and take your rightful place one day.”

I sneered. “I thought it was all about the Yakuza and taking my rightful place there too.”

“You were born to rule both, Amon,” she announced, her tone high-pitched. “You deserve both.”

I had never seen this power-hungry side of my mother. Not truly. Not until now. Yes, she always called me her prince, but I’d known it to be a term of endearment. Now, I wasn’t so sure.

I started to suspect she was—had always been—power hungry and saw me as a way to get to the throne. Both Dante and I had been her puppets. She sat in her chair like a queen ready to be crowned. The only downfall? Most of the underworld would never allow a woman to rule. Not the Yakuza, not the Omertà.

Maybe it was her endgame to rule all along, to play me like a pawn in her game. Except she lost her connection to me when she spilled the beans that I was Romero’s son. Twenty years too late.

“After Angelo died, why didn’t you tell me you married Romero?” I questioned. “I was strong enough to protect all of us. Both Dante and I are.”

After a moment of silence, she looked at me, her eyes harsh and filled with secrets.

“I couldn’t be sure.”

“You’re paranoid.” She looked the other way, avoiding my gaze. “And you’re hiding more secrets,” I stated calmly. I was certain of it.

She lifted a hand. “Let’s leave that topic for another time. I don’t have the energy to argue with you today.”

Unintentionally, my mother just confirmed my suspicion. I intended to dig up every single one of her secrets and tear through them like a hurricane. But she didn’t know I had my own secrets now, and that I no longer trusted her enough to share them with her.

“If you don’t have the energy for it, we have nothing left to say.”

“You need to focus on the Yakuza throne,” she snapped. “On taking your seat at the Omertà table. It will make you the most powerful man in the world.”

“What if I don’t want it?” I smirked. “It’s clear you’ve had a plan for a long time. But be warned,Mother.” She hadn’t been Mamma for a very long time. “I’m going to tear your plan to shreds, piece by piece. Onlymyplans matter from now on.”