When Storms Collide

Chapter 3

The next day was fast to arrive.

A fleet of black cars rolled past the ornate gates of the Reign estate, tires crunching over the fine gravel driveway. The estate itself was a testament to wealth and power—modern yet timeless, a fortress of glass and stone nestled in the hills. Security cameras turned silently, watching every movement.

Catalina Mitre Galvez stood outside her car, sunglasses perched on her nose, arms crossed as she took in the grandeur. Her children emerged one by one, suitcases in hand, their expressions ranging from curious to cold.

Inside the estate, Darius Lucas Reign waited with his children in the grand foyer. He stood at the center, calm as ever, but aware of the storm brewing beneath the surface. Each of his children had their own reactions—some more composed, others skeptical.

"This is unnecessary," Miguel muttered to Federico as they stepped through the marble entryway.

"It's a political move," Federico replied under his breath. "They want us to act like one big happy family before the wedding."

"Then we're all actors now," Valeria quipped, adjusting her sunglasses.

The parents exchanged greetings, warm and composed. "The wedding is in a few weeks," Catalina said, her voice firm but soft. "We want everyone to be comfortable with each other before then."

"And what better way to build bonds than to live under one roof?" Darius added.

That statement earned a few raised eyebrows and a muted groan from Ambrose.

Rooms had been prepared for the Galvez siblings—each styled to reflect their profiles, each monitored subtly. No one trusted too quickly.

In the west wing, Armando stood beside his window, arms crossed. "They expect us to play nice, but this isn’t a play."

On the opposite end, Lizandra sat at her desk in her own suite, fingers steepled. She was analyzing already—patterns, responses, strategies.

Regina scrolled through her laptop, hacking into the estate’s systems just to test how secure they were. "They're good," she muttered. "Not perfect, but good."

Meanwhile, Maya walked the corridors, taking in everything with a quiet grace. Her eyes met Ambrose's once by the staircase. Neither said anything. The silence was loaded.

Over dinner that night, the dining table felt colder than it had. Formalities were exchanged. Polite conversation. No laughter yet.

Valeria clinked her fork against her glass. "So, are we all supposed to smile and pretend this is normal now?"

"You don't have to smile," Gianna said gently. "But you should try to coexist. For our parents."

"Coexisting is easier when you're not sleeping in enemy territory," Miguel mumbled.

Fabriz spoke up for the first time. "We're not enemies. Just strangers. Yet."

That caught the attention of a few.

"Yet," Lizandra echoed, her voice calm, unreadable. "But strangers can become allies. Or not. Time will tell."

The room fell silent again, heavy with unspoken truths and hidden blades.

It was a beginning—but no one said it would be a peaceful one. The clinking of silverware and the soft murmur of servers weaving through the room filled the ornate dining hall. Crystal glasses sparkled under the golden light, the scent of aged wine and rich cuisine blending in the air. Though everything gleamed with grace and prestige, it was the tension that hummed loudest beneath the polished surface.

Catalina Mitre Galvez sat at one end of the table, her poise regal, every movement a product of experience. Beside her sat Darius Lucas Reign, whose gentle smile barely masked the calculating gaze that moved across his children and hers.

Lizandra Davina Reign, seated to the right of her father, gently stirred her wine with deliberate calmness. She hadn’t spoken much since the seating. Her soft smile remained, but her eyes moved—sharp, observant, reading not only her new siblings across the table, but the strategic placement of each chair and the way every sibling exchanged glances.

Armando Rego Galvez sat opposite Lizandra. Their gazes met—two leaders by nature, two protectors by design. He raised his glass slightly. Lizandra responded with a faint nod, her calm demeanor unwavering.

To Armando’s right was Valeria Siv Galvez, who examined the Reign side of the table with open curiosity, her fingers toying with the stem of her wine glass. She leaned toward Maya Elle and whispered something, earning a quiet chuckle from her sister.

Regina Lira Reign arched a brow at the interaction, lips curving in amusement. "They're more fashionable than I expected," she said aloud, directing the comment to no one in particular but loud enough for Valeria to hear.

"We have reputations to maintain," Valeria responded smoothly, her accent sharp, her tone not unkind. "I assume you do too."

"Always," Regina replied with a smirk.

Darius cleared his throat gently, reclaiming the center of attention. "This dinner is not about proving ourselves. It's about knowing one another. We are family now, not competitors."

Federico Prenz Galvez leaned forward, setting his fork down. "Then let’s begin properly. What does everyone here do?"

Gianna Issa Reign offered a soft smile. "I’m the Keeper. I make sure all our family’s secrets—paper or digital—are secured, protected, and filed away. I'm second born, and some say I act more like a mother than a sister."

"And I manage one of the family’s hospitals," Ambrose Trez Reign added. "I’ve seen every kind of injury that comes through. I treat and care for our people in both body and mind."

Regina leaned forward slightly. "I’m our digital eyes and ears. Hacker, infiltrator, and data manipulator. If it's hidden in the cyberworld, I can find it—or erase it."

Flavio Cierro Reign looked across the table, his tone steady. "I lead our side of the family. First born, and by tradition, the one who sits on our father’s throne. I run the Italian mob now, for better or worse."

There was a pause before Lizandra finally spoke, her voice calm and deliberate. "I’m on the more dangerous side of the organization. I take care of those who cross us. Strategic elimination. Dangerous missions. I stay away because what I do shouldn’t bleed into our home."

Valeria gave a playful sigh. "I’m a designer and fashion brand owner, but in the underworld? I’m the planner. Nothing moves without a plan, and I make sure every step is laced in strategy and elegance."

"I manage the weapons," Federico said. "I’m also an artist by passion—but in this world, I know every gun, knife, and hidden cache. I make sure we’re always armed and ready."

Miguel finally spoke, his voice deep and steady despite his youth. "I’m the youngest, but I’ve been trained in combat since I could walk. I don’t handle the guns yet, but I fight—and I’ll do what I must when the time comes."

Maya Elle rested her chin on her hand, a coy smile playing at her lips. "Seduction, persuasion, charm. I play nice, but I play to win."

Fabriz Rezo Reign spoke, “Youngest, have the best aim, sniper of the family.” With a little smirk and childishness.

Armando nodded. "And I run the Spanish mob. Our father’s legacy is mine now, and I lead our operations. Every alliance, every movement, every war—we plan and execute under my watch."

Darius chuckled. "You’re all terribly dangerous."

"But necessary," Catalina added, eyes gleaming with pride.

The air shifted again—less tension now, more understanding. This wasn’t just a family. It was a union of empires, each piece valuable.