The Bastard's Blade

Chapter 8

The silence in the office was heavier than the smoke that had filled the penthouse an hour ago. Charlotte sat in my father’s high-backed leather chair—a throne she hadn’t even bothered to clean the blood off of—and began peeling an orange with a small, ivory-handled knife.

‎"Don't look so betrayed, Vera," she said, the blade catching the morning sun. "If I hadn't 'engineered' your return, you’d still be wasting your potential in some gutter in Marseilles. I didn't just give you back your name; I gave you a purpose."

‎I walked to the floor-to-ceiling window, the city of Rome sprawling beneath us like a map of conquered territory. My reflection looked back at me—ghostly, stained, and unrecognizable. "You used me as a heat-seeking projectile to clear your

path. My father was the target, but I was the weapon that took the recoil."

‎"And you survived it," she countered, tossing a piece of zest onto the mahogany desk. "Which is why we are going to discuss the London Annex. Your father’s senators aren't just going to hand over the keys because he’s in a basement. They need to see the new face of the Salvatore legacy. They need to see you."

‎She stood up, circling the desk until she was inches from me. The scent of expensive silk and cold gunpowder clung to her. She held out a black file. Inside were the faces of the men who thought they were safe now that the 'Old Man' was neutralized.

‎"The infrastructure is cracked, not broken," Charlotte whispered. "We have forty-eight hours to solidify the transition before the Global Financial Oversight committees start flagging the account transfers. You’re going to London. You’re going to sit across from Senator Vane, and you’re going to show him exactly why being my right hand is more terrifying than being your father's daughter."

‎I looked at the file, then at the silver revolver sitting on the desk between us. The debt wasn't paid; it had just been refinanced under a much higher interest rate.

‎"And if I decide I'm tired of being a tool?" I asked, my voice steady.

‎Charlotte smiled, a sharp, clinical expression that never reached her eyes. "Then you become an obstacle. And you’ve seen how I handle those."