Heir Apparent?
840 Words
Hope's POV:
The moment my mother disappeared through the private doors at the back of the restaurant, the room remained frozen.
Nobody moved.
Nobody spoke.
For a few seconds, all that could be heard was the faint clink of glassware and the distant music drifting in from somewhere beyond the dining room.
Then the collective tension finally broke.
The conversation drifted elsewhere.
Business.
Politics.
Shipping routes.
Money.
Yet every few minutes I'd catch someone looking our way.
Watching.
Calculating.
The same way they'd measured me all evening.
Only now, I realized they weren't just measuring me.
They were measuring him.
Across the table, one of the older captains leaned toward another and muttered something too quiet for most people to hear.
Unfortunately for them, I had spent my entire life learning how to listen.
"Axel's blood."
The other man nodded slowly.
"And Destiny's daughter."
Neither looked away from us.
Neither bothered pretending they weren't evaluating what sat before them.
The future.
The question was whose future.
I suddenly understood why my mother had chosen tonight.
Why she'd pushed.
Why she'd forced both of us into the spotlight.
This wasn't a lesson.
It wasn't even a test.
It was an introduction.
She was showing the Family what came next.
The problem was that not everyone in the room would see the same answer.
Some would see me.
The woman Destiny had spent years preparing.
The one who had sat in meetings, learned the books, built relationships, and earned her place.
Others would see Jaxx.
Axel McCoy's grandson.
The last direct branch of the bloodline that had built the empire in the first place.
A man who had just challenged Destiny Fairbanks to her face and walked away smiling.
Dangerous qualities in our world.
Valuable ones too.
As the evening continued, I noticed it more and more.
The conversations.
The glances.
The subtle shifts in posture.
People weren't discussing whether there would be a successor anymore.
They were discussing what that successor looked like.
A partnership.
A marriage.
Or something else entirely.
At one point Alejandro appeared beside our table.
The old lieutenant swirled the amber liquid in his glass before speaking.
"You know what your grandfather used to say?"
Jaxx sighed.
"Whenever a sentence starts like that, it's never good."
Alejandro chuckled.
"'Never leave a vacuum where ambition can grow.'"
Jaxx groaned.
"That sounds exactly like him."
"It does."
Alejandro's eyes shifted between us.
"The Family likes certainty."
Neither of us missed the meaning.
A warning disguised as wisdom.
The Family could accept Hope.
The Family could accept Jaxx.
The Family could probably accept both.
What it would not tolerate forever was uncertainty.
Power invited questions.
Questions invited factions.
And factions eventually became wars.
As the dinner finally broke apart and guests began leaving, I noticed people approaching us individually.
Some spoke to me first.
Others spoke to Jaxx.
A few made a point of speaking to both of us equally.
That told me everything I needed to know.
The room had split.
Not openly.
Not yet.
But the seeds were there.
By the time we stepped outside into the warm Argentine night, I felt exhausted.
The convoy waited at the curb.
Bodyguards lingered nearby.
For the first time all evening, there was nobody close enough to overhear.
I released a long breath.
Jaxx slid an arm around my shoulders.
"Well."
I laughed.
"There it is again."
"What?"
"That word."
"It's a good word."
I shook my head.
Then my smile faded.
"Did you notice it?"
His expression turned serious.
"Yeah."
The answer came too quickly.
Too easily.
Of course he'd noticed.
"Some of them think it should be you."
Jaxx was quiet for a moment.
The city lights reflected in his eyes.
"Some of them always will."
I hated how true that was.
Because it wasn't arrogance.
It was reality.
He was a McCoy.
Axel's grandson.
The blood heir.
The thing Destiny had never been.
The thing I could never be.
My stomach tightened.
Jaxx must have seen it because he gently took my hand.
"Hope."
I looked up at him.
"If your mother wanted a McCoy running the Family, she'd have picked one."
The certainty in his voice surprised me.
"Jaxx—"
"No."
His hand squeezed mine.
"Your mother spent years building you into her successor."
There wasn't a trace of humor in his expression now.
"Not me."
The words should have reassured me.
Instead they made my chest ache.
Because I knew something he wasn't saying.
That some people wouldn't care what Destiny wanted.
Some people would care about blood.
About names.
About legacy.
About who carried Axel McCoy's face and surname.
As we climbed into the waiting car, I glanced back toward the restaurant one final time.
The dinner had ended.
The test was over.
But I had a feeling the real question had only just begun.
Not whether I was capable of leading.
Not whether Jaxx was.
But whether the Family's future belonged to Hope Fairbanks.
To Jaxxon McCoy.
Or to both of us together.
- Writer
