The storm
498 Words
Chapter 5
(continued)
Alaric Voss
Roderick hesitated at the door like a man caught between loyalty and fear.
“But… she’s here,” he said again, softer this time.
I didn’t answer.
He knew better than to speak her name unless he absolutely had to.
I stood.
Lishi.
My mother.
The only woman in the world who didn’t flinch beneath my gaze… because I inherited it from her.
“Let her in,” I said, voice low, firm.
Roderick nodded once and disappeared.
The silence returned—but this time, it wasn’t peace.
It was her silence. The kind that entered a room before she did.
Then the door opened.
She walked in like she owned the building.
Black heels. Blood-red lips. Long coat, long history. No apology in her steps.
And for a moment—even the city of Chicago behind me seemed to still.
“Alaric,” she said, her voice velvet and venom.
I didn’t speak. I only watched her the way others watched storms roll in—knowing the damage was inevitable, but still in awe of the beauty.
She stopped in front of my desk and pulled off her gloves with slow precision. “Your boardroom smells like fear. You’ve been too kind to them.”
“I gave them a choice,” I said.
“And they’re still alive,” she replied, arching a brow. “You’re softer than your father.”
The name burned in the air like a match to gasoline.
“You didn’t come here to talk about him.”
She smiled—sharp, knowing.
“No,” she said. “I came to see my son. The one I haven’t laid eyes on since he declared himself king of his empire. The one who’s forgotten what real power looks like.”
I leaned back in my chair.
“You’re late.”
She took that as permission and sat down, crossing her legs like a queen on a throne that belonged to her once—and maybe still did.
“I was in Venice,” she said. “Handling something your father left unfinished. As always.”
“And what do you want now?”
She studied me for a long time.
“I want to know why you look like him but act like a businessman.”
I smiled faintly. “Because unlike him, I don’t need bullets to make people bleed.”
That made her laugh. A real one—low and dangerous. “There you are.”
She reached into her coat and dropped a black envelope on the table.
“Read this. Then decide if you're still the king you claim to be.”
She stood, brushed an invisible crease from her coat, and turned toward the door.
“Lishi,” I said quietly.
She paused.
“You always show up when something's coming.”
She glanced back over her shoulder, eyes like mirrors.
“That’s because something is.”
And then she was gone.
- Writer
