Chapter 9 : THE UNINVITED GUEST

THE MORETTI MANSION - THE RAGE

The atmosphere inside the Moretti Estate was explosive.

Vincenzo Moretti paced around the grand library, his face red with fury. He picked up a crystal vase and hurled it against the wall.

CRASH!

"A laughing stock!" Vincenzo roared, pointing at the large screen where the news was replaying the clip of Kyrian throwing the drink. "The Don of Monaco... humiliated by a child!

The Russians are laughing, Lorenzo! The Rossis are laughing!"

Isabella sat on the velvet sofa, looking anxious. "Vincenzo, calm down. Your blood pressure..."

"To hell with my blood pressure!"

Vincenzo shouted. He turned to Lorenzo, who was sitting calmly in a leather armchair, swirling a glass of red wine.

Lorenzo looked bored. He watched the video on loop—specifically the moment Kyrian’s eyes flashed with anger.

"Why are you so silent?" Vincenzo demanded. "You should be burning their warehouse right now! You should be demanding Kirill’s head!"

Matteo, who was leaning against the bookshelf, snorted. "Honestly, Dad, the kid has guts. Calling Enzo a 'Scary Monster'? That’s legendary."

Lorenzo shot Matteo a look that made him shut up instantly.

Then, he stood up. He walked over to the screen and paused the video on Kyrian’s face.

"I am not burning anything, Father," Lorenzo said, his voice low and smooth like velvet. "Fire destroys beauty. I want to... keep it."

Vincenzo frowned. "What are you planning?"

Lorenzo downed his wine and set the glass on the table. He adjusted his cufflinks, a dark, predatory glint in his eyes.

"Kirill will try to fix this. He will try to make the boy apologize to save his business."

Lorenzo smirked.

"I am going to pay them a visit. Personal service."

"You can't go there alone," Vincenzo warned. "It's enemy territory."

Lorenzo picked up his car keys.

"I am the territory, Father."

THE VOLKOV MANSION - THE ULTIMATUM

That Night.

The silence in the Volkov living room was shattered by Kirill’s voice.

"You will apologize!"

Kyrian stood his ground, tears of frustration pricking his eyes.

"No! I won't! He started it! He grabbed me! Why should I say sorry to a bully?"

Kirill rubbed his temples, his patience snapping. The news was everywhere. Their stocks were dropping.

"This is not a playground fight, Kyrian! This is business! We have shipments stuck at his port. If Lorenzo closes the border, we lose millions!"

"I don't care about your money!"

Kyrian shouted, turning to leave.

"Fine," Kirill said, his voice turning deadly cold.

Kyrian stopped.

"If you don't care about my money," Kirill said, walking closer, "then you won't mind if I cut it off."

Kyrian turned around, eyes wide. "What?"

"If you walk out of this room without agreeing to apologize,"

Kirill stated firmly, "I am blocking all your cards. I am taking your car. And I am sending you back to Korea—not to live in a penthouse, but to work in a factory. You want to act like a child? I will treat you like one."

Ivan looked down, unable to defend his brother. Seo-joon looked pained but remained silent.

Kyrian stared at his father. He knew Kirill wasn't bluffing.

He clenched his fists so hard his nails dug into his palms.

His freedom. His life. All gone if he didn't say one word.

"Fine," Kyrian whispered, his voice shaking. "I'll do it."

"Louder," Kirill commanded.

"I said I'll do it!" Kyrian screamed, a tear finally falling. "I will apologize to your precious business partner! Happy now?"

"Good," Kirill nodded, ignoring his son's pain. "Get some sleep. We will arrange a meeting soon."

Kyrian stormed up the stairs, slamming his door so hard the house shook.

THE NEXT MORNING - THE BREAKFAST

The morning sun filtered through the curtains of the dining room.

The table was filled with a lavish breakfast—pancakes, fruits, Russian tea, and coffee.

But the mood was gloomy.

Kyrian sat in his pajamas, poking his fork into his pancakes aggressively. He hadn't slept all night.

Seo-joon was trying to lighten the mood.

"Eat something, Rian. You need energy," he said softly.

"I'm not hungry," Kyrian mumbled.

Kirill was reading the newspaper, while Ivan checked his phone.

"We should call Moretti's secretary today," Kirill said to Ivan. "Set up a formal meeting for the apology."

"I'll do it after breakfast," Ivan replied.

Suddenly, the heavy oak doors of the dining room creaked open.

Everyone turned, expecting a servant.

But it wasn't a servant.

Standing in the doorway, framed by the morning light, was a tall, dark figure.

He wore a casual black button-down shirt with the top buttons undone, revealing a hint of his chest, and black trousers. He looked relaxed. He looked dangerous.

It was Lorenzo Moretti.

And he was alone.

The room went dead silent.

Kirill dropped his newspaper.

Ivan stood up so fast his chair fell over.

Seo-joon’s hand instinctively went to Kyrian’s arm.

Lorenzo didn't look at the guards who were rushing in late behind him, looking terrified. He didn't look at Kirill.

His pitch-black eyes landed straight on Kyrian, who was sitting there with a piece of pancake halfway to his mouth, frozen in shock.

Lorenzo smirked—a slow, lazy, terrifying smirk.

"Good morning," Lorenzo’s deep voice echoed in the silent room. "I hope I am not too early for breakfast."

"Moretti?" Kirill stood up, his voice tense. "How did you get in? Where are my guards?"

Lorenzo waved a hand dismissively. "Your security needs an upgrade, Kirill. They were too scared to stop me."

He walked into the room like he owned it. He pulled out the empty chair right across from Kyrian and sat down.

"I heard you were planning to call me," Lorenzo said, locking eyes with the terrified Omega. "So I thought I would save you the trouble."

He leaned forward, resting his chin on his hand, staring directly at Kyrian.

"I heard someone wanted to tell me something. Isn't that right, Little Volkov?"

Happy reading ✨