Page 48 of Inheritance
“Shut up,” I hissed, glancing down the empty hall.
But she was right.
Even if she called and made him believe she was happy in her arranged marriage to psycho, Gabriel wouldn’t stop. He couldn’t. Not anymore. Even if we escaped, one of them would die.
Her eyes narrowed. Her expression hardened. “You don’t get it,” she said. “I’m not leaving.”
“Why?” The word burst out of me.
She flinched but didn’t back down.
“You don’t have to like it,” she said softly. “But I’ve made my choice.” She turned back toward the bedroom.
“This?” I asked, lifting my shackled ankle. “This is your choice?”
She paused. Just for a moment. Then she closed the door.
My question hung in the air, unanswered.
What little hope I’d clung to—that she and I could escape—was gone. If Caroline wouldn’t leave, if she wouldn’t even try to betray Ivan’s trust, then Gabriel would risk everything.
And when he did, it might be the last thing he does.
Gabriel
Isat alone on the balcony overlooking the backyard, watching the trees sway in the distance as crickets chirped their endless rhythm. Clouds drifted past, revealing the moonlight in fleeting bursts. Each time it appeared, the silver glow bathed everything in soft light—until the next cloud swallowed it again.
It was a serene, peaceful view, and I had come out here looking for a moment of calm before my next move. But all I felt was ravenous hatred for those who stood against me—who had wronged me. I should have made Nikolai suffer more. His death was too merciful.
The Sinclairs would pay in blood. Then I would feel peace.
I didn’t know how long I’d been sitting there, the chill of the night air biting at my skin. This spot—familiar and haunted by memories—was near where I’d stood months ago, looking down at a sea of well-dressed guests. My family’s gala. A delusional attempt to bind me into an arranged marriage. The memory was sharp, bitter, like swallowing broken glass.
The balcony door creaked open behind me, followed by the familiar tap of a cane and the dragging of a foot.
“Son, this plan…” My father gripped the railing beside me, exhaling slowly. “It’s dangerous. Brash. So many variables… catastrophic failure could—will—almost certainly occur.”
“I hope old age is more merciful to me,” I replied lazily, leveling my eyes with his. “You’re thinking like a coward, and deep down, I know that’s not you. You wouldn’t have built this empire if you were.”
He said nothing.
“This is the only way. I have to save Sophia. Caroline. All you have to do is wear your suits and drink your nerves away until I bring them back.”
Moonlight glinted off his eyes, sharp and commanding. “You will not disrespect me, son.” His tone remained neutral, but the weight behind it was unyielding. “I am the head of the Auditore family. I built this house, this name, from nothing. My recent failings upset you—I understand that—but they don’t give you the right to question me.”
I held my tongue as he moved slowly to the patio table and sat. He cleared his throat, reaching for his glass of green juice—medication-laced as always, dutifully prepared by Isabelle.
“I’m glad you’re doing better,” I said, softening my voice to ease the tension. He needed time to accept my plan. Eventually, he’d see it as I did—inevitable.
A faint smile tugged at his lips. “Your sister, she’s a miracle worker,” he said, wagging a finger at the glass. “Tastes like fuckin’ soap and dirt, but… haven’t felt this clear-headed in years.”
The memory of his breakdown flashed through my mind.
“I’m sorry for coming at your throat these past years,” I said carefully. “I just… saw you getting older. Your mind changing from what I’d known my whole life. You couldn’t control it, but still I blamed you for it.”
He watched me silently, and he understood.
“Everyone says time heals wounds,” he paused. “But no one tells you it’s time passing that creates them.”
