Chapter Eleven – The Weight of the Throne
Some thrones are made of gold.
Mine was built from bone.
And every step toward it left blood on my hands.
I didn't sleep.
Not after what Adriano showed me.
Not after I saw what our father had done — the betrayals, the bribes, the silenced voices. Whole families disappeared under the Romano name. Political favors bought with blood.
And me?
I was meant to inherit all of it.
Mercy stood beside me, arms folded tight. She looked like she hadn't slept either.
"You okay?"
I lit a cigarette with shaking hands.
"No."
She looked at the file again, lips pressed.
"You believe it?"
"I don't want to." I exhaled smoke. "But I saw my father's signature. The contracts. The money transfers. Even the order to have Adriano 'removed.'"
"And now he's back to burn it all down."
"Yeah."
That night, I called a meeting.
My lieutenants. Giovanni. Mercy. What was left of the old guard.
Some came out of loyalty.
Some came for blood.
Some came just to see if I'd crumble.
I stood at the head of the table, heart cold, jaw locked.
"Our enemies aren't just outside anymore. They're in our blood. This family has rotted from the inside."
Murmurs.
"Our father turned us into weapons. And now those weapons are pointed at each other."
Giovanni stood.
"So what? We burn it all? We walk away? We let Adriano win?"
"No," I said. "We rebuild. Not as monsters. As men."
The silence that followed was thick with disbelief. Then rage.
"That's weakness," one lieutenant snapped. "You want to change the game? You'll get us all killed."
He reached for his gun.
Mercy shot him in the face before he could finish the motion.
The room froze.
Blood sprayed across the table.
She looked at me.
"You have your loyal ones."
I nodded slowly, the weight settling on my shoulders like a crown of rusted steel.
"Then we go to war. But not just against Adriano…"
I looked around the table.
"…against the legacy that broke us all."
If I had to burn down the kingdom my father built,
then so be it.
Let the fire start with me.