The Syndicate Boss Buried an Empty Casket for His Bride... Then a Weeping Infant at His Doorstep Wore the Truth He Thought Was Dead

"Silas!" Julian shouted, his voice cracking with desperation. He aimed his rifle down the stairs, but his hands were shaking so violently he couldn't keep the barrel steady. "It’s over! The syndicate wants a new direction! If you kill me, the other families will go to war!"

Silas slowly reloaded his pistols, the metallic click echoing sharply in the momentary silence of the grand hall. He began to ascend the stairs, his boots crunching over shattered glass and broken marble.

"There is no syndicate without me," Silas said, his voice entirely devoid of fear. "There are no other families. After tonight, there is only this house. And you are trespassing."

Julian fired wildly. The bullets chewed into the mahogany banister, missing Silas by inches. Silas didn't even flinch. He raised his right hand and fired a single shot.

The bullet struck Julian’s knee.

Julian screamed, collapsing onto the landing. His rifle clattered out of reach. He clutched his shattered leg, writhing in agony as Silas calmly crested the top of the stairs.

Dante emerged from the study, bleeding but alive, nodding respectfully to his boss. Silas walked over to his brother, standing above him, casting a long, terrifying shadow over the man who had stolen his wife and tried to murder his child.

"Please," Julian sobbed, spitting blood. "Silas, please! We're brothers! We grew up together! You can't do this!"

"You surrendered the right to call me brother the moment you put Clara in that river," Silas said coldly.

He reached down, grabbing Julian by the collar, and dragged him across the polished hardwood floor, leaving a thick trail of blood. He dragged him past the shattered mirrors, past the torn paintings, right to the edge of the grand balcony overlooking the marble foyer below.

"You wanted my throne, Julian?" Silas whispered, hauling his brother up against the railing. "Look at it. Look at what it costs."