Chapter 396 - 396: The Stand-In

Marcello sat in his study, the morning light filtering through tall windows. His coffee had gone cold an hour ago. He hadn't noticed.

He was staring at his phone but his eyes were distant.

There was no call, no message, nothing from Viktor. This in itself was strange.

The other family heads had gone back to their various countries—Lucius to Italy, O'Rourke to Ireland, Kurobane to Japan, Isabeau to wherever she had decided to hide. Just as Kyle had instructed. Just as he had ordered.

Marcello wasn't going to risk anything disrupting any chance he had at seeing his daughter again.

But Viktor was supposed to be watching.

That was the arrangement. Viktor's men reported to him. Viktor reported to Marcello. Clean, simple and professional.

Except Viktor hadn't reported to him.

Marcello had learned about Kyle leaving the country from a different source—one of his own contacts at the airport. A routine check that had turned up something unexpected: Kyle's name on a passenger manifest. Destination: London. Traveling with three women, a child and an infant.

There was only one reason Kyle would go to London, but Marcello quickly brushed it aside when he saw the company he had.

"Viktor should have told me this."

He set his phone down and leaned back in his chair. The leather creaked beneath him.

"Either Viktor isn't as honest as I thought, or he's taken a personal interest in Kyle." Marcello pondered even though the former was an impossibility in of itself.

Marcello knew which one it was.

He had seen that look before. Viktor didn't get quiet about people unless they mattered to him. Not as targets, not as threats but as something else. Something Marcello couldn't quite name but it was clear Viktor saw his younger brother in Kyle.

"He's curious." Marcello thought to himself.

And Viktor's curiosity was a dangerous thing. Not because it was malicious—but because it was consuming. When Viktor found someone worth his time, he didn't share. He watched waited, and learned his target.

Marcello knew better than to interrupt.

Viktor was loyal. Fiercely, absolutely loyal. The kind of loyalty that came from saving a man's life in circumstances neither of them spoke about anymore. But even loyal dogs needed room to roam. If Marcello reined Viktor in too tightly, the Butcher would bristle. Not openly—never openly—but the trust would crack and this was something he avoided by all means necessary.

"I need to let him have his fun. To keep things under control." Marcello thought out loud.

Marcello picked up his coffee, realized it was cold, and set it down again.

A soft knock on the door.

"Come in."

The door opened. A young woman stepped inside. It was the hired lady he had gotten to act as his daughter.

Marcello had hired her for quite sometime now.

She was not his daughter. She never had been. But she played the role well enough that no one outside the family had questioned it. At dinners, she sat beside him. At events, she smiled and nodded. She never spoke more than necessary. She never drew attention to herself.

She was obedient. Compliant. A placeholder except when she pulled a gun on Kyle.

That, that was via his instructions.

"Mr. Marcello," she said. Her voice was neutral. No warmth, no coldness. Just… there.

"The payment," Marcello said. It wasn't a question.

She nodded. "The usual arrangement. Monthly retainer. Plus the appearance fee from last week's dinner."

Marcello gestured toward the desk. "Top drawer. Left side."

She walked over, opened the drawer, and pulled out a thick envelope. She didn't count the money. She never did. She simply held it at her side and waited.

"Is there anything else?" Marcello asked.

"No, sir."

She turned to leave but then stopped.

Marcello watched her. She wasn't looking at him. She was looking at the floor, like she was trying to decide whether to speak or not.

She never speaks unless spoken to.

"What is it?" Marcello asked.

She hesitated. Then: "How much longer will I be needed?"

Marcello's expression didn't change. "Why do you ask?"

"I don't mean to overstep." Her voice stayed flat. Careful. "I just… need to plan. That's all."

Marcello studied her. She wasn't asking out of curiosity. She wasnt asking because she cared. She was asking because she was an employee who wanted to know how long her employment would last.

No emotion, no attachment. Just practicality.

That was why he had chosen her.

"I don't know," Marcello said. "When I do, you'll be informed."

She nodded. "Thank you, sir."

She left. The door closed softly behind her.

Marcello sat alone in the silence.

Kyle was in London.

He didn't know why. He didn't know what Kyle was looking for. But he knew one thing: Viktor was there too. Or would be soon.

"Viktor is watching him. Not for me but for himself."

Marcello should have been angry. Viktor had disobeyed—not directly, but by omission. A report not given was a choice made.

But Marcello wasn't angry.

He was curious as well.

What had Kyle done to earn Viktor's attention? Viktor didn't get attached.

Unless something reminded him of Alexei.

Marcello had seen it that night in the study. The way Viktor's eyes had softened—just for a moment—when he talked about Kyle having the same look as his little brother.

"Smart puppy in a world of wolves."

Marcello stood up and walked to the window. The estate stretched before him, green lawns, winding driveways, the distant glint of the gatehouse.

"I sent Viktor to watch Kyle. Now Viktor won't let me watch him watch Kyle."Marcello thought to himself with an amused smirk.

It was almost funny, almost.

Marcello pulled out his phone. Stared at Viktor's name in his contacts.

He could call and demand answers. Reassert control but this would serve no purpose which was why he put the phone down.

"No. Let him have his fun. For now."

Viktor's loyalty was absolute. He would come back when he was ready. And when he did, he would bring something valuable—either proof that Kyle could be trusted, or proof that he couldn't.

Either way, Marcello would wait.

He had waited this long for news of Angelica. He could wait a little longer.

Marcello poured himself a fresh cup of coffee—hot this time—and settled into his chair.

"Well, things are looking interesting,"