Page 37 of False Heir

"Law enforcement?" I murmured, keeping my voice level, betraying none of the adrenaline that had started to seep into my veins.

"Or someone else’s pawns," she replied, her red hair glinting under the intermittent glow of a passing lamppost. "Either way, they're not here for a midnight stroll."

“Should we run?”

“No, there’s too many people here,” she said. “We’ll be protected by the crowd. I’ll drive you back wherever you need to go, we just need to make sure we’re never alone.”

“Great,” I said, feeling guilty for not even telling Tristan I was going out.

We continued walking, keeping our pace even and our expressions neutral, but the thrumming of my heart belied the calm appearance we presented. This was no mere coincidence; it was a calculated move in a game where every player held secrets like aces up their sleeves.

"But since you wanted to talk about Dad,” Carmen said, her words laced with a hint of steel, "have you heard about his secret meetings?"

"Not really. I’ve been preoccupied with other things," I confessed, my hand falling to my bump. "But if he's stepping out of line, I need to know."

"Right now, his moves are as clear as mud," she said, frustration edging her tone. "But if I know anything about our father, it's that he's playing a long game. We just don't know yet if it's for us or against us."

"Apparently he’s always had more faces than the church has saints," I said, my mind racing. "And if he's meeting with outsiders, then it's either a new alliance or a knife waiting for our backs."

"Exactly." Carmen's fingers tightened around my arm. "We need to be careful, kid. If he senses that we're onto him, there's no telling what he might do."

"Then we'll have to be smarter and sharper," I declared, the resolve in my voice slicing through the tension that enveloped us. "Let's keep our friends close, and our enemies within striking distance."

“I don’t know if I can bring myself to think of Dad as an enemy yet.”

I nodded, my throat dry. “Yeah, that’s fair,” I said.

Night draped the fern-bordered pathway in a cloak of shadows as Carmen and I walked in silence, our footsteps soft against the gravel. The air was cool, almost biting, but it was nothing compared to the chill of the game we were tangled in.

Carmen's next words were low, almost lost in the rustle of leaves. "For what it’s worth, Dad doesn’t seem to be the one messing with his own turf, Ade. But he is definitely off balance—someone’s been hitting our laundering operations hard. And he misses you a lot. I’ve heard him talk to Mom about it, and he’s asked me to talk to you about it, too. So I guess…consider that what I’m doing now."

"Let me guess, he's missing the way I kept the books tidy?" I replied with a wry twist of my lips. "If he wanted me to play the good accountant, maybe he shouldn't have used kidnapping as a recruitment strategy."

"Always the sharp tongue," Carmen chuckled, but her eyes held a glint of pride. "You should come back and be snarky with Dad. I’m sure he’d love that.”

The night's embrace grew colder around me as Carmen and I moved through the ferns, our footsteps mingling with the distant city hum. I could feel the weight of our lineage, a cloak that was both armor and target.

“My concern is Tristan,” I said. “I mean, Dad doesn’t want to hurt me, right? He doesn’t want to hurt his grandchildren. But what about the Callahans? After Malachy died, how does it benefit him to have his grandchildren as Callahans instead of Orsinis?”

Carmen paused, her gaze meeting mine in a moment of silent understanding before she replied. “I’ve been wrestling with the same question, Ade. He's never been fond of the Callahans but if he's planning to harm them…” She trailed off, the implication hanging heavy in the air between us.

“I won’t let that happen,” I stated, my voice firm despite the worry gnawing at my insides. “Tristan and our children are not pawns to be sacrificed.”

Carmen frowned. “Well, he would never hurt the twins,” she said matter-of-factly.

“Right. Just kill their dad,” I said, my hand protectively on my stomach as we walked.

"Yes, there's that," Carmen said, her voice softening. "But Adriana, you need to remember something. Dad has always taken a detour around direct conflict. If there's a power play in progress, he'll be looking to secure alliances, not start a war."

"Secure alliances," I echoed, my heart pounding as I mulled over her words. "But with whom?"

"That's the million-dollar question," Carmen replied, her gaze shifting back towards the path ahead of us. “And I’m afraid I don’t have enough information to answer it.”

As we neared the end of the fern-lined path, the moonlight cast eerie shadows on the ground, mirroring the turmoil within me. A rustle to my left had me tensing, but it was just a night creature scurrying away, as if sensing the storm brewing around us.

"Let's head back," Carmen suggested, already turning. "I’m tired, and I assume you have to be back before Tristan gets home or you’ll turn into a pumpkin.”

“Yeah,” I said. “What about the cops?”

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