Page 63 of Ivory Legacy

“Kristin, Richard, this is my brother,” I said, the words tasting like ash. A necessary introduction, though every fiber of me rebelled at pulling Marco into this orbit.

“Charmed,” Marco said, offering Kristin a hand that she took tentatively. I watched, my guard up, waiting for the slip—the moment Marco would reveal the razor edge beneath his veneer.

“Quite the family resemblance,” Richard observed, his voice smooth as aged whiskey. But even he couldn’t mask the flicker of unease that crossed his features.

“Thanks,” Marco replied, his grin not reaching his eyes. “We try our best.”

“Marco has quite the knack for making an entrance,” I found myself saying, attempting to keep the mood light despite the silent alarm bells ringing in my head.

“Ah, well, you know how it is; can’t let my big brother have all the fun,” Marco quipped back with a wink.

He turned then, the playfulness melting away as he addressed me directly, his tone dropping a few degrees. “Dante, we need to talk. Dad sent me—he wants us at the house. Today.”

“Is something wrong?” The question escaped me before I could stop it, though I knew better than to expect an easy answer.

“Family business,” Marco said with a shrug that didn’t quite reach his eyes. “You know how it is. He’s expecting us in Little Italy as soon as possible.”

I nodded, the weight of our father’s summons settling over me like a winter chill. Whatever Enzo Moretti wanted, it wouldn’t be trivial—and it wouldn’t wait.

Kristin Bentley’s face lit up with genuine pleasure as she clapped her hands together, the delicate pearls at her wrist catching the light.

“Oh, a family gathering! How wonderful!” she exclaimed, her eyes sparkling with anticipation. “I definitely want to spend more time with my daughter’s new family.”

The atmosphere was thick with the mingled scents of fresh coffee and warm pastries from the kitchen, an undercurrent of tension from Marco’s words moments ago now seemingly washed away by Kristin’s enthusiasm. I could feel the corners of my mouth twitching upward, a rare smile threatening to break through my usually composed facade.

Marco leaned back against the plush sofa, his gaze sweeping the room like he owned it—which, given our family’s influence in this city, wasn’t too far from the truth. He caught my eye, mischief glinting in his own, and then turned to Kristin with a grin.

“Yeah, you must be so excited to be grandparents,” he said, his voice carrying a hint of something I couldn’t quite place.

My reaction was instinctual—a brother’s reflex honed over years of dealing with Marco’s impulsive outbursts. My fist connected lightly with his arm, a silent reprimand. “Watch it, Marco,” I muttered, though the damage was already done.

“They didn’t know?” Marco said, sounding genuinely contrite.

“You’re such an asshole.”

Kristin blinked. “Wait. What?”

Everyone’s attention shifted to Jade, whose cheeks had taken on a rosy hue that matched the bloom of the winter dawn. She clasped her hands in front of her, the gesture both protective and proud as she met the collective gaze of our small assembly.

“Yeah,” Jade said, her gaze cast downwards. “Yeah, so. Surprise. I’m pregnant.”

Chapter Thirty-One: Jade

The room swelled with a chorus of congratulations that felt too loud in the early morning light, the air thick with my family’s joy. My parents hugged me, their smiles wide and genuine. My siblings, equally ecstatic, were already debating baby names and nursery themes.

“Can you believe it? A little one!” My mother’s eyes brimmed with tears that mirrored the condensation on the windows, the winter chill pressing against the warmth of our gathering.

I tried to match their excitement, but my heart raced for another reason. The news of my pregnancy had transcended personal joy—it was a beacon of change in a life tangled with complexities I was still untangling.

As laughter bubbled around me, I caught sight of Marco across the room, his animated hand gestures punctuating a conversation with Dante. I could almost hear the mischief in his voice without needing to be close. Dante, looking every bit theauthoritative figure he was, seemed less amused, tension lining his posture.

“Okay, we’ll go,” Dante said, rubbing the bridge of his nose—a gesture I’d come to recognize as his shield against irritation.

Annoyance pricked at me. Whatever Marco had proposed, I knew it would add another layer to the already intricate web of our lives. I watched Dante’s gaze flick to me briefly, an unspoken message that whatever was unfolding would involve me, whether I liked it or not.

“Jade, dear, you’re miles away,” my father said, his warm hand squeezing my shoulder.

“Sorry, just a lot to process. I was going to tell you, but I guess Marco beat me to it,” I admitted, offering a smile that felt more like a grimace. I turned back to my family, trying to anchor myself in the moment, but my thoughts remained with Dante and the inevitable complications that followed him like a shadow.

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