Page 59 of False Heir

We moved to the living room after a bit.

Carmen’s dining room, usually a haven of laughter and too many glasses of wine, fell ominously silent as we huddled over her polished mahogany table. I traced the intricate grain with my fingertip, grounding myself in the reality of what we were about to do.

“First thing,” Carmen began, her strategist mind kicking into gear, “we need to pick neutral territory. Somewhere public but discreet.”

“Somewhere he can’t ignore us or make a scene.” I pondered for a moment. “The old café on Fifth? It’s quiet this time of day.”

“Good.” She scribbled it down on a notepad, her handwriting sharp and decisive. “We also need to consider timing. Catching him after a deal might put him in a more... amenable mood.”

“Or more volatile,” I countered, acutely aware that our father’s moods swung like a pendulum these days.

“True. We’ll aim for morning then, before he gets tied up in his...business.” She met my gaze squarely.

“Okay. And if he refuses to listen?” My voice was steady, but inside, my twins seemed to sense my anxiety, fluttering nervously.

“Then we remind him of the consequences. The Orsini Domain isn’t the sanctuary it once was,” Carmen said, her tone hardening. “If he doesn’t step back, he risks everything. Including the next generation.” She glanced pointedly at my bump, her expression softening just a touch.

“Right,” I agreed, feeling a surge of protectiveness for my unborn children. “He has to see reason.”

“We should prepare for the worst, though.” Carmen’s eyes darkened with the gravity of our situation. “Just in case.”

“Security measures,” I nodded, understanding. “But nothing too obvious. We don’t want to escalate things before we even start talking.”

“Subtlety is key,” she affirmed. “I know a guy who can be there, out of sight but within reach if things go south.”

“Someone who’ll defy Dad?”

“Someone who’ll be paid for their work,” Carmen said, looking down at the notepad.

“Let’s hope it doesn’t come to that,” I murmured, though part of me knew better than to hope for a peaceful resolution in our world.

“Hope,” Carmen sighed, “but always plan for war, right?”

“Yep,” I said.

I didn’t need a mirror to know my face was as pale as the pristine walls of Carmen’s kitchen, the heart of her too-gorgeous house that now felt more like a war room. My fingers, normally steady from years of navigating the perilous waters of our family’s legacy, trembled slightly as they clutched the phone. This device, so innocuous on any other day, had become the conduit for our potential salvation or doom.

“Deep breaths,” Carmen murmured from where she stood, leaning against the granite countertop, her eyes tracking my every move with sisterly concern.

“Right,” I whispered, forcing air into my lungs. I punched in the numbers, each beep echoing ominously in the high-ceilinged room.

The ringing started, a sound that seemed to slice through the stillness of late morning. Once, twice...With each ring, my heart thudded harder against my ribcage, a relentless drumbeat signaling the approach of a decisive moment.

“Come on,” I muttered under my breath. The waiting was a silent agony, seconds stretching into what felt like hours. Carmen’s gaze never left me, her own breathing measured and controlled—a stark contrast to the erratic pattern of my own.

“Pick up, damn it,” I urged, not sure if I was ready for him to answer or praying he’d just let it go to voicemail.

“Adriana,” Carmen said softly, a gentle reprimand in her tone, reminding me that losing my cool before the battle even began was not an option.

“Right,” I repeated, a mantra to ground myself.

My thumb hovered over the ‘End Call’ button, the temptation to postpone this confrontation almost overwhelming. But no, the die was cast; the call was made. It was time to face whatever came next, for better or worse.

“Baby?” My dad answered the phone. “What a pleasant surprise.”

“To what do I owe the pleasure?”

I took a quick breath, glancing at Carmen for a flicker of silent support before diving in. “I want to see you. Just us. You, me, Carmen, and Mom.”

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