Father Elijah Fallout Mga Nobela at Kwento

One of my father’s staff was walking me through the vineyard, explaining something about harvest schedules and grape acidity, when my phone buzzed. Lila. “Have you heard?” she said before I could even say hi. “Vivienne and Eric are both locked up. Locked. Up. And Kael? His casino and reputation are getting torn apart by gossip columns. The whole New York mafia scene is getting a deep cleanse.” She sounded positively gleeful. I didn’t mean to douse her excitement, but truthfully, I didn’t care. Not anymore. So I said the only thing I felt, “It’s about time.”

When I thought he wouldn't say anything else, he gave a deep sigh, before he finally opened up, “ Joeline and I…what we had… it wasn’t perfect. But I tried. I was trying to build something.” I didn’t interrupt. I let him talk. Because he needed to. “She was supposed to be my partner. We had a future. A goddamn wedding date planned out ahead,” he laughed harshly, then stopped. “And Xavier knew. He knew what she meant to me, and he still…” His voice cracked. I blinked, startled. I had never seen Elijah so emotional before. “He was my brother,” Elijah muttered, eyes darkening. “And he still crossed that line. He always does. And somehow, he always gets the best of it all.”

I stated quietly, my voice barely above the sound of the pouring rain. His eyes flicked toward me briefly, as if weighing the repercussions of his reply. “Yes,” he admitted, barely above a whisper. Elon's gaze shifted back and forth between us, confusion etched on his face. “Oh, fantastic,” he muttered. “That’s exactly the reaction I wanted.” Elijah coughed violently, a horrific sound that echoed in the stillness, and blood splattered against the pavement beneath the open car door, vivid and alarming. Not survivable for long.

“Everyone in the village respected him… He didn’t deserve this.” I looked at her, my chest tightening. And then it hit me. Noel. This has his name written all over it—quiet, calculated, merciless. He’s done it before. He’s capable of anything. I pulled my phone from my pocket and stepped a few paces away. My fingers dialed without hesitation. Rafael answered on the third ring. “Elijah?” “We have a problem,” I said through gritted teeth. “Elisse’s father. They found his body near the shore—he fell off a cliff.”

he said softly, “is the first thing you’ve said today that sounds like a Vale.” Elijah left the building with his disguise still in place, but it didn’t matter anymore. He could feel the eyes on him, cameras hidden in ceilings, security guards pretending not to notice. His father would know by tonight that the ghost had walked into Carr’s den and walked back out alive. The city outside was loud, indifferent. Cars honked. People brushed past him, heads down, lives intact. Elijah pulled his hoodie tighter, his cap lower, and kept walking. He had proof now. Not written, not signed, but spoken. He knew the truth: his father had wanted him gone, erased, buried under someone else’s disaster.

The first two messages were timestamps from earlier, but it was the third one that made my blood turn to ice. *I know about your stepfather, Ellie. How you switched out his normal medication with something far more dangerous. Almost cost him his life, didn't it? Lucky for you, someone found him in time.* My breath caught in my throat. Only Elijah had known about that. Eli had been the one to find his father collapsed in the kitchen, convulsing, had been the one to call the ambulance. I'd made him swear never to tell anyone, and he'd kept that promise even in death.

Later: "I'm glad you told me. Just remember, your real family is here, buddy. You decide who you hold on to and who you let go. Yeah, me too," I say, ending the call with Elijah as I walk into our living room and turn to my wife. "Elijah's father died." "Oh," she says, closing the book she was reading and focusing on me. I exhale. "He told me that he's been sending money for the last couple of months after the insurance ran out. He also said it was a mistake not sharing it with me. It was much better letting him come to me on his own. You were right."

No matter who called him, he showed no response. At the same time, Elijah had completely fallen apart. While enduring the pain of losing me, he also had to face public backlash and internal uprisings. Under this double pressure, he collapsed entirely. He began drinking heavily every day, getting drunk. He no longer involved himself in any mafia affairs. With no one managing it, the organization quickly fell into chaos. Territories were seized, loyalty crumbled, and everything teetered on the brink of collapse. When Gavin, Elijah’s father, heard the news overseas, he rushed back to Neapolis overnight.

"Mateo... it's me. Ethan's here. Broke in. Drunk. He's... he's trying to hurt me again. I knew him from college. He left me. Ghosted me. Hit me before. I... I think I love you. I'm sorry. I just... I need help. He's in my apartment. Please." I heard the bathroom door rattle. "I found you!" Ethan sang - drunk child voice. I ended the recording. My phone rang. Mateo. I answered fast. "I know you-" "Stay the hell away from my father!" Kid's voice. Angry. Young. I froze. Looked at the screen just to be certain it was him. "...said you should stay away from our family. You refused. What do you want, Isabella? You're just a cheap gold digger. My mom... I mean, I know you look like one and-"

William stepped forward and tried to grab me. I shook his hand off and asked what he thought he was doing. He gathered all his strength and finally forced out the question buried deep in his heart. “Back then, did you make the hospital tell me you miscarried? “Were you lying to me? Is Luke my child? “Tell me! I’m right, aren’t I? “Luke looks four or five years old. The timing lines up perfectly.” William’s eyes were bloodshot, and I knew he was desperate to hear a yes.