Chapter 158: The Succession Nobody Saw Coming

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Lorenzo glanced down at the little boy in my arms before reaching out to smooth a hand over Emil’s hair.

"Nothing."

I stared at him. "Nothing?"

"Nothing."

"Dracula, I’ve known you long enough to know when you’re lying...it took me nearly a year to learn it, and that was the most suspicious answer I’ve ever heard."

His lips curved into a faint smile.

"Maybe you’re getting a little too familiar with me, tesoro."

"Maybe you’re getting too comfortable with lying right to my goddamn face."

He leaned in closer, his expression softening as he looked at me.

"Well you’re right. I am planning something, my love. Just wait and see."

I narrowed my eyes, but before I could demand more details, Emil reached up and started playing with my bangs, clearly finding our conversation far less fascinating than the prospect of using me as his personal toy.

Lorenzo observed him with an expression I couldn’t quite decode.

"You look good with a child in your arms," he said.

My face flushed instantly. "D...don’t you even start."

"I haven’t started anything."

"You’re looking at me like you’re imagining things, and I’d really appreciate it if you’d stop."

"Imagining what, exactly?"

I shot him a glare. "You’re insufferable."

He chuckled softly, leaned down to kiss my forehead, and walked away before I could retaliate.

I stood there watching him leave, my cheeks burning, while Emil continued to play with my hair.

"I don’t like your Uncle," I told the child. "He’s so weird, but I guess I’m stuck with him forever and all."

Emil beamed at me. "Mommy likes Uncle."

I looked down at him in horror.

"Who the hell taught you to say that? Was it Matteo? Because I am definitely going to have a talk with him!"

Emil just giggled.

Little traitor.

When we finally entered the grand dining room that evening, I had already concluded that Lorenzo’s idea of a family dinner was less about enjoying a pleasant meal and more about gathering everyone in one room to see who would reach for a weapon first.

The long table was laid out with polished silverware, crystal glasses, and enough food to make a royal banquet look like a potluck.

Roasted meats, vegetables, fresh bread, and several elaborate dishes filled the center.

The staff moved quietly around the room, ensuring every place setting was perfect.

Lorenzo occupied the head of the table where Frederick would have sat when he was alive, looking entirely in his element.

I settled beside him with Emil on my lap. Dante sat directly across from us, his face as welcoming as a locked prison door.

Matteo was further down with Leon, who seemed to have decided that keeping his head down was the smartest move.

Timothy and Nikolai were there too, along with several guards stationed near the walls.

Their presence made the room feel less like a family gathering and more like a negotiation that happened to include dinner before the inevitable chaos.

I started helping Emil with his food, cutting his meat into small pieces while keeping an eye on Dante, who hadn’t touched anything on his plate.

The cutlery clanging against the china felt unusually loud. Every time someone shifted a glass, I glanced up, half-expecting to see whether the sound had upset anyone important.

Honestly, if this was what a family called dinner, I’d take a sandwich in my room any day.

But Lorenzo seemed completely at ease.

He asked Dante about his travels, checked in on his household members, and even casually mentioned the weather in Italy...all with that calm courtesy that suggested he had invited his brother over to discuss gardening instead of some highly suspicious events involving attempted murder.

I leaned in closer to him.

"Are we going to talk about anything meaningful tonight, or are we just going to discuss the weather until dessert?"

Lorenzo continued slicing his food.

"Patience, amore mio." he whispered.

"I’ve been patient for months. It’s a miracle I haven’t ended up with a stress-related illness."

His lips twitched, but before I could carry on, he set his fork down and turned to Dante.

"I must ask, Dante. Why didn’t you come to Father’s funeral?"

The question hung over the table, heavy enough to silence everyone.

Dante slowly looked up.

"Why would I bother to mourn a man who never acknowledged me?"

Matteo frowned.

"That’s not fair. Father cared about all three of us equally."

"Did he?" Dante shot back, his voice sharper. "You certainly enjoyed his money, Matteo, especially when you were using it for parties and your multiple orgies."

Matteo’s face darkened. "At least I didn’t spend my life blaming others for my problems and abandoning my family when it mattered most!"

"I abandoned my family?!" Dante’s voice rose. "I was the one abandoned! Where were you two when father tossed me aside? When I had to bury my wife?!"

"Enough!"

Lorenzo’s firm command cut through the air, making both brothers fall silent.

I glanced between them, wondering if the Castelli family had ever managed to sit through an entire meal without someone insulting another person’s upbringing, finances, or romantic history.

Lorenzo placed his hands on the table, his expression growing more serious.

"I know how broken this family has been since Mother’s death. Father’s passing only made it worse, and me taking over as Don instead of Dante has given us all another reason to cling to our grievances. I’m not pretending that the past can be changed, nor am I asking either of you to forget what happened."

His gaze briefly drifted to Dante before returning to the table.

"But there have been threats against my life and Alex’s. The attack in Paris wasn’t just a random incident, and I refuse to let whoever is behind it operate freely while we argue about past mistakes."

My stomach knotted.

I knew Lorenzo had been looking into the attack, but hearing him bring it up so openly in front of Dante made me acutely aware of how much was still uncertain.

I recalled the footage Lorenzo had shown me...that had placed his brother in Paris at a suspiciously timed arrival, and Lorenzo’s promise that he had a plan.

I glanced at Nikolai and Leon, who remained quiet, their gazes fixed on the conversation.

Dante pushed his chair back with a scrape that made Emil freeze, bread halfway to his little mouth.

"Stop dancing around the issue!" Dante snapped, finally losing his cool. "You brought me here because you said you were considering making me the Don to protect your life and that disrespectful little omega!"

For one suspended moment, nobody moved.

...Huh?

Wait what?!

Then someone at the far end of the table inhaled sharply, and the murmurs that followed spread through the room like a chill.

I stared at Dante, certain I’d misunderstood.

Making him the Don?

Lorenzo supposedly wanted to hand control of the entire syndicate to the brother who could barely look at him without showing contempt, and he was doing this out of concern for my safety?

So this was Lorenzo’s great plan?!

Hand over everything to the brother who murdered innocents in a gala, tried to kill Lorenzo and kidnap my ass just weeks prior?!

My heart started to race.

I turned to Lorenzo, searching his face for any sign that Dante might be lying.

Lorenzo remained seated with his hands resting calmly on the table, his expression so unreadable now it scared me more than any outburst ever could.

Dante emitted a humorless laugh.

"The only reason I accepted your invitation and came here was to discuss the transfer of authority over the syndicate. So if you’ve changed your mind, Lorenzo, I suggest you stop wasting everyone’s time and just tell me now."

The dining room fell silent once more. Every gaze shifted to the man at the head of the table.

I sat frozen with Emil on my lap, my hand protectively resting on the child’s back, as the full weight of Dante’s statement settled over me.

Whatever Lorenzo had in mind was far riskier than a family dinner.

And judging by the calm expression on my husband’s face, I had a horrible feeling that the real meal was just beginning.