Chapter Four - The Prince and the Poison

Lucian Moretti – POV 

The boardroom smelled of cigar smoke and old blood.

Mahogany table, Italian leather chairs, glass walls veined with shadows. Twelve men sat around me—advisors, lieutenants, old wolves in tailored suits. My father sat at the head, hands clasped, silver hair slicked back, his expression carved from granite.

Don Moretti. The king who never stepped down.

And I, his son, his heir, his blade—stood waiting for the next command I didn’t give a fuck to obey.

“Sit,” he said finally.

I didn’t.

He raised an eyebrow but didn’t push. He’d long since stopped expecting obedience from me. Only results.

“The Velenti family has extended their offer,” he began, sliding a sealed envelope across the table. “Again.”

I didn’t touch it.

“They’re loyal Lucian,” he continued. “And Rose is—”

“Filth,” I cut in.

A murmur rippled through the room. My father’s gaze hardened. “Watch your tone.”

“I have,” I said flatly. “And I’ve decided it doesn’t suit lies.”

His fingers drummed once against the wood. “You will not disrespect an ally.”

“She isn’t an ally,” I replied. “At least not mine. Her father trades favors with rats and uses her to seal deals".

I walked over to one of the animal heads hanging on the left side of the meeting hall.

A new catch, a bear this time.

My father had a thing for hunting animals, he would have them imported from various parts of the world only to let them loose in one of the many forests he owned. He enjoyed it, the hunt, the trill it gave him.

As the bear stared back at me with its lifeless eyes I couldn't help but acknowledge similaritie between I and my father in this aspect, the only difference was were as he enjoyed hunting animals, I enjoyed hunting humans.

"And that mouth of hers,"

I smiled thinly. “Apart from sucking dick, I don't know what it could be used for".

Turning back I looked at my father.

"And there is the fact i’d rather marry a corpse. At least that would stay silent.”

One of the lieutenants coughed to mask a laugh. My father’s glare silenced him instantly.

“Enough,” Don Moretti said sharply. “You’re thirty-two. You’ve refused three alliances, two proposals, and one blood contract. It’s time you chose a woman—or I’ll choose for you.”

“I didn’t realize I needed a leash to lead,” I said, meeting his eyes.

“You need a legacy.”

“I am the legacy.”

That earned a scoff. “No, figlio mio. You’re the weapon. You’re the hand that holds the trigger. But without heirs, without unity, all you’ve built will crumble the moment you fall.”

Fall. He said it like it was inevitable. Maybe it was. In our world, graves opened early.

I took a slow breath. “Rose Velenti doesn’t bring unity.”

“You are right she brings power. And power is survival.”

I walked back to the middle of the room and leaned forward, bracing my palms on the table. “Power built on disgust is weakness. You taught me that.”

His silence told me I’d struck home.

I straightened. “You want me to lead when you’re gone. Fine. But I won’t lead beside some bitch who poisons everything she touches.”

“She’s beautiful,” one of the older men muttered, as though it mattered.

I turned my head toward him. “So is arsenic.”

The room went still.

My father exhaled, slow and weary. “Lucian…”

“What?”

“She loves you.”

“She loves power,” I corrected. “She loves what my name buys her. What my blood earns her.”

His expression didn’t change, but the vein in his temple pulsed once. “You don’t have to like her. You just have to use her.”

“I don’t breed with politics.”

The room filled with whispers after that which I didn't care much to think about.

My father finally stood, his chair creaking back. He circled the table, stopping beside me. He was still taller, though his strength had waned with age. 

“You think you can rule with hatred alone?” he asked quietly.

“I’ve ruled everything else with it,” I said.

He stared at me, then gave a bitter chuckle. “You’re your mother’s son.”

I didn’t answer.

He placed a hand on my shoulder. “This family is built on deals, Lucian. Blood and bargains. You don’t have to like them. You just have to keep breathing long enough to make them count.”

I shrugged him off. “I’d rather choke on my own blood than drink from a poisoned cup.”

He sighed, retreating a step. “Then pray your pride doesn’t bury us all.”

The meeting adjourned shortly after. I stayed behind.

The room emptied slowly, the sound of shuffling papers, murmured farewells, and expensive shoes fading down the hall. When the door finally closed, I was alone.

Alone was better.

Always better.

I poured a glass of scotch and leaned against the table, staring at nothing. The liquid burned down my throat, steadying the anger pulsing beneath my skin.

Rose Velenti. My father saw an alliance. I saw a serpent with a smile. She wanted my name, my fortune, my bed. I’d given her none.

She didn’t want me. No one ever did.

They wanted the legend. The scarred son of Don Moretti. The killer who never missed.

Not the man beneath it.

Not that there was much man left to see.

I traced the rim of my glass with a finger, thinking of the whispers I’d heard lately—rumors drifting through the underworld like smoke.

A name.

A woman.

A blind heir hidden in the Vellaro fortress.

A daughter of Celeste Vellaro.

And an old servant who vanished with something worth more than gold.

I didn’t know why the story clung to me. Maybe because it reeked of ghosts. Maybe because I’d seen too many cages dressed as castles.

Or maybe because something in me still remembered what it felt like to be trapped in a legacy you never asked for.

I downed the rest of the drink and set the glass aside.

Marriage. Alliances. Politics.

They could wait.

There were more interesting wars to win.

And if the whispers were true…

Then somewhere out there, in a house that stank of death and old sins, a forgotten girl held the key to a kingdom built on blood.

And I?

I want it.