The Most Feared Man in the City Ordered Me to Sit—Then Showed Me a Picture of My Mother

The hospital raid had been repelled. Julian Vance had been taken into custody by Damien’s elite guard, locked in a secure holding cell three floors beneath the mansion. My mother was recovering under a military-grade security guard at a private clinic outside the city.

In the center of the underground tactical room, a massive glass table displayed a live holographic map of San Francisco.

Damien sat at the head of the table, his shoulder bandaged beneath a fresh dark suit.

Standing around the table were seven senior capos of the Moretti family—men with hardened faces, scarred hands, and eyes that had seen decades of bloodshed.

I sat at the far end of the table, wearing a dark silk blouse and trousers Ethan had provided. Beside me stood Ethan, his shoulder stitched and wrapped tightly in medical bandages.

"The Commission meets at dawn," one of the old capos, a man named Lorenzo, said, slamming his fist onto the glass. "Julian’s family is demanding revenge for his capture. They claim Damien violated the peace treaty by holding Julian!"

"Julian attacked a public hospital," Damien said coldly, swirling his glass of scotch. "He brought war into my house."

"The other families don't care about the hospital, Damien!" Lorenzo countered, leaning forward. "They care about her!" He gestured aggressively toward me. "An illegitimate daughter who appeared out of nowhere three days before the harbor vote! How do we know she’s even yours? How do we know she isn't a plant sent to break the family from the inside?!"

The room erupted into loud, hostile shouting among the capos.

"She’s a waitress!"

"She has no training!"

"She’s a liability!"

I felt my cheeks burn with a mixture of humiliation and fury. For twenty-seven years, I had worked myself to the bone, paying taxes, taking care of my sick mother, trying to be a good person. And now, these men in five-thousand-dollar suits were talking about me like I was a piece of rotten meat.

Suddenly, Ethan stepped forward, his hand slamming down onto the glass table with a thunderous crack!

The room instantly fell silent.

"Every single one of you sat in this room six years ago when the Moretti family lost three docks to the Vance syndicate," Ethan said, his voice terrifyingly calm, his eyes sweeping over the capos like daggers. "You cried about losses, you blamed the police, and you begged Damien to save your businesses. Not one of you stood in a kitchen today and took a bullet for the Boss’s blood."

Lorenzo sneered. "You're a Vance, Ethan! You have no right to lecture us!"

"I am the man who brought Julian Vance to his knees today," Ethan replied smoothly, taking a step toward Lorenzo. "And if anyone in this room questions Ava Bennett's right to stand in this house again... I will personally throw them into the bay before sunrise."

The capos shifted uncomfortably, exchanging uneasy glances. No one dared challenge Ethan.

Damien watched the exchange silently, a faint flick of approval in his gray eyes. He turned his head to look at me.

"Ava," Damien said softly, his voice cutting through the heavy atmosphere. "You have heard the capos. The Commission will demand proof tomorrow. They will demand that you take the Oath of Blood to claim your place as the heir of the Moretti family."

I looked at Damien. "And if I refuse? What if I just want to take my mother and leave?"

"If you leave," Damien said honestly, "the Commission will mark you as an unsanctioned liability. Vance’s allies will hunt you to the ends of the earth to ensure you never claim this empire. The only way to be safe... is to rule it."

I looked down at my hands. They were calloused from carrying heavy trays at Bellini's. I thought of my mother suffering in silence for twenty-seven years, trying to hide me from this monster’s world. But I realized now that running away hadn't protected us—it had only made us weak.