Page 13 of Inheritance
“What kind of problem?” I was curious, despite my frustration.
He let the silence stretch just long enough to pick at my irritation. “Nothing major. Just some… complications. But it doesn’t matter. Nikolai is working on a new angle. Should be resolved before the end of the day.”
“Nikolai?” I asked, glancing at him sideways.
“You haven’t met him yet?”
“I’ve met him. I don’t trust him.”
Damien laughed. “Of course you don’t. How can you trust someone you don’t know?” He closed his eyes, let out a soft laugh under his breath. “Gabriel doesn’t.”
“Why are you even telling me this if the problem is already being resolved?”
“I just thought you should be informed, is all.”
“How can Nikolai get in but no one else in your family or group or whatever you call it can?”
Damien exhaled dramatically, as if debating where to begin. “Nikolai isn’t part of the family. He’s just a guy.”
“So you trust ‘just a guy’?” I asked.
“Here I thought you were a soft, agreeable woman.” His smirk returned. “No, he’s not just a guy. But I’m not standing here for an hour telling you decades of stories to change your perception of him.”
“Whatever.” I turned my back to him, staring out the window. Then, after a dozen heartbeats, glanced over my shoulder.
He was gone.
I walked over and closed the door, pressing my palm against the wood for a moment before looking back at my painting.
It wasn’t finished, not even close, but the beginnings of something I could be proud of stared back at me.
I cleaned my tools, then left the room, closing the heavy door behind me.
The scent of polished wood and something floral lingered in the air. I didn’t know how long I’d been painting—but the sky outside had shifted, softening into evening. My footsteps echoed across the floor as I tried to find my way back the way Gabriel had led me down.
Then I heard voices.
Low. Steady. Deliberate.
I followed the sound, curiosity pulling me closer. Rounding a corner, I spotted them: Gabriel and his father.
The Don.
They sat in a distant circular room, what looked like the wealthy version of a man cave, their silhouettes illuminated by the golden glow of a chandelier. A chessboard lay between them, untouched.
I stayed hidden, listening.
Their words were too quiet to make out, but the cadence was… familiar. One spoke. The other paused. A friendly rhythm.
Then, Gabriel smiled.
Faint. Subtle. But real.
He said something, and his father chuckled.
I pulled back.
Gabriel had only spoken of his father with contempt. Like he was nothing but a deluded old man, consumed by power.
