Page 42 of The Omega Accountant

Blood ties were about to become severed chains.

I’d broughtLucahome hours ago, his trembling smile proof he’d survived theSouzas’ attempt to turn him into a pawn.Onlyonce he was safe behind reinforced doors hadIturned my attention to the reckoning awaiting me here.

Carlo stood beside the car, his face a careful mask despite knowing what awaited us inside.Thegathered vehicles in the circular drive told their own story—not just family but captains, lieutenants, witnesses summoned to observe whatever reckoning my father had orchestrated.

"All the captains have already gathered,"Carloconfirmed, his gaze sweeping the illuminated windows where shadows moved like predators behind frosted glass. "Everyterritory represented."

Significant.Myfather had elevated this from private ultimatum to public judgment.Acalculated maneuver to force my capitulation through the weight of collective expectation.

"AndLuca?"Iasked, my focus remaining on the mansion whereI'dspent my childhood learning the precise mechanics of power and violence.

"Secure at the penthouse.Threerotating security teams, satellite monitoring active."Carlohesitated, loyalty battling practicality. "There'sstill time to reconsider, sir.Theclaiming is... recent.Itcould be legally reversed before?—"

"No."Thesingle word emerged with such finality thatCarloflinched despite our years together. "Itcouldn't."

The claim existed beyond documentation now—blood and bite and biochemical bond that had altered us both at the molecular level.Myscent carried notes of his honey-citrus essence.Hiscarried the sandalwood and cedar that defined me.Ourbiologies had merged, creating something neither could undo through legal mechanisms or political convenience.

The grand foyer stretched before us in imported marble and handcrafted mahogany, generations ofCorvinowealth compressed into stone and wood and crystal.Thebitter scent of my father's imported cigars hung beneath more recent notes of expensive cologne and the distinctive chemical undertone of concealed firearms.Thecaptains had come prepared for potential conflict, then.

Vincenzo appeared from the study doorway, aged face betraying nothing as he acknowledged my arrival with the slightest inclination of his head. "They'rewaiting."

The study—my father's inner sanctum—had been transformed.Furniturerearranged to create a tribunal setting, with the massive oak desk at the head and twelve captains arranged in descending order of rank.Menwho controlled territories, operations, and bloodlines that had definedCorvinopower for generations.Menwhose loyaltyIwas about to test beyond recovery.

My father sat like an aging emperor, silver hair catching light from crystal fixtures overhead.Hisexpression remained neutral, though the slight tightening around his eyes betrayed the satisfaction he took in orchestrating this performance.

"Matteo," he greeted, my name in his mouth sounding like the first warning before gunfire. "Howkind of you to honor our invitation."

The phrasing—deliberate, pointed—established the tone immediately.Notson but subordinate.Notheir but subject.Thecaptains registered the distinction with subtle shifts in posture, the choreography of power dynamics already in motion.

"Father,"Iacknowledged, taking the lone chair positioned opposite him—a symbolic isolation that hadn't escaped my notice. "Iunderstood this was a family matter.I'msurprised to see our entire leadership assembled."

"Family matters become organizational concerns when they threaten established alliances."Hisfingers drummed once against polished wood—the only external sign of the rageIknew simmered beneath his controlled exterior. "Particularlywhen the heir apparent compromises decades of strategic positioning for an omega accountant."

CaptainRusso—head of our eastern territories and longtime supporter of my father's traditional approach—leaned forward, salt-and-pepper beard failing to soften the hard lines of his face. "We'vereceived communication fromEmilioSouza.Heconsiders your... choice of mate a direct insult to his family."

The contempt in his final words hung in the air, a test of my reaction that would set the tone for what followed.Iallowed the silence to stretch, maintained eye contact untilRusso'sgaze dropped a fraction—alpha yielding to alpha despite his seniority.

"TheSouzaalliance was never viable,"Isaid finally, voice pitched to carry without appearing defensive. "Sofiawas already negotiating separate arrangements with theVenuccifamily while her father dangled her before us as bait."

A murmur rippled through the assembled captains—information they hadn't been privy to, the first suggestion that my father's cherished alliance contained cracks invisible from outside.

"Irrelevant," my father cut in, reclaiming control of the narrative. "Evenif theSouzagirl proved unsuitable, there were dozens of appropriate candidates.Instead, you claimed an omega nobody from accounting.Amale omega, flouting generations of traditional alpha-female omega pairings."

Another calculated thrust, aimed at traditional values that still dominated our world despite evolving attitudes in younger ranks.CaptainEsposito—ancient, conservative, controlling shipping routes critical to our import operations—shook his head in visible disapproval.

"TheCorvinobloodline deserves prestigious continuation," he pronounced, each word weighted with the authority of his eighty-plus years. "Aleader with a nameless, family-less omega consort weakens our standing with the other families who value proper breeding and connections."

I studied him thoughtfully, noted the younger man standing behind his chair—Esposito'sown son and presumptive successor, watching with poorly concealed interest.Theold power dynamics laid bare: patriarchy, bloodlines, traditional conceptions of strength bound to conventional family structures.

I'd known the momentLuca'sscent shifted—richer, sweeter, unmistakably layered with the hormonal markers of new life.Evenfrom miles away, the claiming bond had transmitted the truth biology had already written into his scent.

"And ifItold youLucais pregnant?"Isaid, the declaration landing like a grenade in the center of the assembled leadership.

The silence that followed held multitudes—shock, disbelief, recalculation.Myfather's expression hardened to granite, the revelation clearly unexpected despite his intelligence network.CaptainRussorecovered first, skepticism evident in his scoff.

"Convenient timing.Andunconfirmed."

"Medical documentation can be provided,"Ireplied evenly. "Thenext generation ofCorvinoleadership grows as we speak.Theonly question is what world they will inherit—one bound by outdated alliances and crumbling traditions, or one positioned for survival in changing times."

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