Page 111 of The Sound in Silence

“What the fuck do you want, Father?”

He strides through the office, in a suit looking two inches too short for him on the arms. His face is red, which means he’s annoyed. His usual guise whenever he’d bitch at me when I was a kid, when I didn’t listen to his instructions well enough.

“Is it true?”

“Is what true?”

“Your useless wife is infertile?”

And now, doc’s just earned his death. Clearly, he’s forgotten my parents are no longer in charge. I push to my feet, suspecting this is a conversation better had standing.

“Don’t call her useless, and she’s not infertile. It was one test.”

He cocks his head to the side, his smirk mocking me. “You’re in denial.”

“It changes nothing.” Except in his eyes, it does, but I’m ready to fight him on this.

His expression cools a fraction, his hands tapping impatiently on the back of the chair he’s standing by. “Sticking to your agreement with the Corsettis, even after they denied you Aurora, is admirable. But the shtick is up. Send her home. Get the marriage annulled. Nico can’t argue this because of the outcome. Perhaps he should have done his due diligence, considering her unknown heritage, but we should have too.” He shrugs, like he’s speaking about breeding farm animals. “Marrying in your position is to ensure the lineage, and he’s aware of this. TheFamigliais relying on you for its future heir, and I’m sorry, but Ariella cannot do that for you.”

What I hate most about my father in this precise moment, is he’s correct. The old me—the pre-Ariella version—would have agreed without a second thought and sent her packing. A wife unable to conceive an heir is a betrayal to theFamiglia. Nico would have to take her back or risk a war, since he sent someone who’d be deemed as “ineffective.”

But I’m not that person any longer and every word I told Ariella about our future was the damn truth.

“Why didn’t you ever fall in love with Mother?”

He blinks, taken aback. “Excuse me. Is this really your largest concern right now?”

I stare.

“Fine.” Shaking his head, he answers, “It’s just not how it is. Your mother has some lovely qualities that have remained—thankfully—since the moment I married her, but love is a useless emotion in this world. Maintaining a normal relationship, on top of my job, is exhausting. Running the organization is a priority, exactly as I’ve taught you. Where is this coming from?”

I stare. It’s in my silence he should discover his answer.

He huffs a single chuckle. “Son, I’m sorry, but it’s over. This is why you don’t fall in love with your wife. Now, you feel like you’re stuck, but I will make this extremely clear: get rid of her. Divorce her. She will not give you the son you require. This is the time to connect with the Volkovs.”

I’ve never punched my father before, not even in training. When sparring, he’s always had his men fight me, which as a kid, I hated. I wanted Father to trainwithme, rather than observe like I’m the science experiment he was putting together.

Perhaps, that’s exactly what I’ve been. If his father raised him one way, he’s done the same with me. Without emotion. TheFamigliabeing his entire focus. Father lived and breathed the organization. Looking back, had he and my mother ever actually spent an evening beneath one roof with me, longer than the odd forced dinner and holidays?

It was those very ideals he shoved into my head—that his father gave him, and probably so on—which I entered marriage with. It was what Ariella and I were supposed to have.

But she changed everything.

“We’ll have a child,” I grit, my hands curling by my side, a punch to his face seconds away from happening. “I’ll get a son, even if we fucking adopt.”

“Adopt?” His face flushes a deeper red, and then white with shock. “No. That is taking this entire thing too far.” He slams his hand down on my desk, his old desk, in a way meant to be threatening. “No!Bringing in your no-name wife was insult enough on the Rossi lineage, but you will not further taint our bloodlines by adopting a nameless orphan.”

I’m around my desk in an instance, my expression the only warning of what’s coming. My hand fists in his shirt, right around the neck, and the buttons strain. Good. I hope they break.

He pants, his hands coming up to push me off, but lack of time in the field and his age plays against him and I’m stronger. Not that he ever paid me enough attention to realize that.

“Erico—”

“Leave. Before I ensure you don’t leave here at all.”

He gapes, his feet stumbling to keep up with the pace I’ve set. “I’m your father—”

“Are you?” I interrupt, a cruel smile taking over. “Blood doesn’t make a family. It simply forces us to acknowledge one another in this fucked-up world. The second I was born, you didn’t care for me or Mother. Your job was done—Iwas that task. But I’m changing things. Ariella isn’t going anywhere, and the future of theFamigliarests inmyhands.”

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