Page 3 of False Heir

He didn’t know it yet, but I was definitely not talking about him.

Chapter Two: Adriana

Blood didn’t usually make me sick…but I had never seen it like this before.

Blood spread like a crimson stain across the Callahan estate’s polished floor, seeping into the fine fibers of an expensive rug that would never see cleanliness again. Diamond’s lifeless form was sprawled out, his demise marking an end to the chaos he’d brought upon us. It was a gruesome sight, and my heart raced as I paced back and forth, unable to tear my eyes away from the man who had once held my fate in his hands.

“Jesus, someone needs to deal with this,” Carmen’s voice cut through the tension, her tone sharp and commanding as she eyed the men present.

I watched Kieran stand there, his dark hair a mess, frustration etching deep lines into his face. “I would,” he said, a touch of irritation lacing his words, “but…”

He didn’t have to say anything else; things were bad. Tristan wasn’t here, the Rossis were huddled in a corner clinging on to consciousness despite everything that had happened, and Killian stood next to them, his gun still in his hand.

“Nobody moves,” Killian repeated through gritted teeth. “Not until this is done.”

I had to wonder what the fuck this meant.

Kieran rubbed the bridge of his nose. His gaze fell on Diamond’s corpse briefly, a look of disgust flashing across his features before he turned away, as though distancing himself from the gravity of death in our midst. The Rossis’ presence loomed over us like a dark cloud, their silent judgment adding to the weight of the night.

“Can’t we just—“ I started, but my own voice sounded foreign, panic-stricken even to my own ears. I stopped mid-sentence, realizing I had no solution to offer, no way to untangle the mess we found ourselves in.

Carmen shot me a look that was equal parts sympathetic and exasperated. Her fiery red hair seemed to mirror the ferocity within her as she took a step toward Kieran, gesturing for him to figure something out.

“Kieran, you need to do something,” she insisted, her resolve unshakable even in the face of such an ordeal. “This can’t be good for Ade. This can’t be good for the twins.”

I felt the walls closing in on me, the reality of the situation too much to bear. I needed air, space, anything to take me away from the dead man bleeding out on the floor of the home I was supposed to feel safe in.

I staggered to the window, my hand trembling as I fumbled with the latch. The cool night breeze washed over me, but it brought no relief. My stomach churned violently, and before I could contain it, I was retching out into the darkness.

“Orsini, you can’t move from here,” Killian’s voice was firm, almost unyielding, but I could detect the underlying concern.

“Would you rather I throw up on your shoes?” I managed to say between heaves. His grunt was the only reply, a noncommittal sound that somehow conveyed both annoyance and acquiescence.

“Look, I’m not going anywhere, okay? I just need... air.” I pressed a hand to my abdomen, the other bracing against the window sill. Inside, a voice whispered that this sickness had become a little too familiar lately, stirring fears I wasn’t ready to face.

But there were more pressing matters; I couldn’t shake the urge to know what was happening between Tristan and my father. Their words, their decisions—they were carving out my future, and I needed to hear it, needed to understand.

“Fine,” Killian finally said, his vigilance unwavering even as he stepped back, allowing me the semblance of space I so desperately craved. His dark eyes watched me, always watching, as if he expected me to shatter at any moment. But I wouldn’t—not now, not yet. I had to be strong for the storm brewing on the horizon, for the clash of wills that was sure to come.

“Thanks,” I mumbled, and saw the slight nod from Carmen. Kieran stood a bit apart, his dark eyes scanning the room, always alert. Liam was fidgeting with something in his hand, probably looking for an excuse to escape into the night himself.

“Killian, you need to see this,” Kieran suddenly spoke up, holding out a phone with a message on the screen.

Killian’s gaze flickered to the phone and then back to me. “Don’t make me regret this,” he warned before stepping over to Kieran. But his attention was now divided, and that sliver of opportunity was all I needed.

I waited until they were all engrossed in whatever crisis Kieran had conjured up. My heart hammered against my ribs, urging me to act quickly. Silently, I edged away from the grim scene that had been Diamond’s last stand and towards the shadows cloaking the far side of the room.

The air was cooler here, away from the bodies and the tension. It took every ounce of willpower not to run, not to give away my intent with any sudden movements. Instead, I slid along the wall, my breaths shallow and controlled, until I reached the door leading to the back of the house.

With one last glance at the group, I slipped through the doorway, my hand steadying my growing belly. The cool night air brushed against my skin, offering a momentary relief from the nausea.

Silently, I moved along the exterior wall of the house, each step taking me closer to the truth I sought, to the conversation that would determine so much. The muffled voices of my father and Tristan were just ahead, their tones weaving through the night air like a dangerous melody.

This wasn’t just about spying; it was about survival—mine, and the lives growing inside me. As I found a spot just outside the window of the living room, I pressed my ear against the cool glass, straining to catch every word, every inflection.

“I love her, Silvio,” Tristan was saying. “I’m going to protect her from whatever you’ve conjured up, I—“

And then my dad was interrupting him so I had a second to process his words. The weight of them settled in my chest, a mixture of love and fear tangling together. He meant it, I knew he did, but the road ahead was fraught with peril. We were entwined in a world where love was both a shield and a potential weakness.

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