Chapter 159: Dinner Is Served, So Is the Interrogation

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The room went completely still after Dante made his announcement.

I could even hear the faint ticking of the grandfather clock beyond the dining room doors, which was quite impressive given that there were about twelve armed men in the room, three family feuds simmering at the table, and enough fancy food to feed a small nation.

Naturally, no one was eating.

Because, quite frankly...what the actual hell?

I suppose I had no choice but to trust Lorenzo and see how this shit went.

The roast had turned cold, the sauce was starting to get that unappetizing skin on top, and the beautifully arranged veggies looked like they were there just to witness a murder.

It was a real shame, too, since I had been looking forward to dinner until Dante decided to drop the bombshell that my husband was ready to hand over his throne like it was an unwanted piece of furniture.

I shifted Emil on my lap, wrapping one arm around his little waist as he leaned against me, focused on the glass of water in front of him.

He was apparently the only one at the table oblivious to the fact that the atmosphere had become so tense you might need protective gear.

Honestly, I think the household should hand out bulletproof vests with dinner invitations at this rate.

Meanwhile, Lorenzo remained calm as ever.

He set his cutlery down beside his plate, picked up his napkin, and dabbed the corner of his mouth with a leisurely elegance that made it seem like we were just chatting about the weather instead of discussing the potential transfer of a criminal empire.

Then, he folded the napkin and laid it on the table, his green eyes locking onto Dante.

"Alright then, since we’re diving into the future of this family," he said, "maybe we should stop beating around the bush. Were you here to discuss the future, Dante, or have you already decided what it should look like?"

Dante’s jaw tightened. "You make it sound like I have no say in this."

"Not at all. I’m asking if you’re here to share your opinion or to impose it."

"Is there really a difference when you’ve spent your whole life making sure everyone only listens to you?"

Matteo shifted in his chair, looking pretty much like he wanted to disappear under the table, preferably with a bottle of wine and a map to another family.

I felt for him. I married into this chaos, and even I was starting to wonder if the Castelli family came with some kind of warranty.

Dante leaned forward, his hands resting next to his untouched plate.

"I’m the eldest son, Lorenzo. Father may have picked you, but his decision doesn’t erase my qualifications, my experience, or everything I did for this family before you decided you were the only capable leader."

Lorenzo listened without interrupting, his face showing so little I wondered if he’d mastered the ancient art of looking bored while someone tried to dismantle his entire existence.

When Dante finally fell silent, Lorenzo nodded slightly.

"Father chose me because he believed the role required more than just being a firstborn. He looked at temperament, judgment, and the responsibility that comes with making decisions others have to live with."

Dante let out a humorless laugh. "You’ve always been good at making your decisions sound like the only reasonable ones."

"A Don who can’t explain his choices has no business expecting anyone to follow him."

Lorenzo’s voice remained steady, but I noticed a slight tightening of his jaw, a quick movement of his fingers against the tablecloth.

It was a small detail, one others might have missed while watching the two brothers spar with words, but I had learned that Lorenzo’s silence didn’t always mean he was emotionless.

Sometimes it just meant he had gotten really good at hiding his pain.

And honestly, that realization was starting to worry me more than his temper.

Lorenzo picked up his glass, took a measured sip of water, and placed it back down.

"Let me ask you something, Dante. If you became Don tomorrow, what would you change?"

Dante seemed momentarily taken aback by the question but quickly got his composure back.

"I’d strengthen our alliances, restructure some operations, and cut out the liabilities that have been dragging us down. The family needs a leader who can make tough decisions without personal feelings getting in the way."

I glanced down at Emil, who was now inspecting the embroidered pattern on my sleeve with real concentration.

Personally, I thought the family needed a leader who could get through a meal without issuing threats, but apparently my qualifications for Don were sadly lacking.

"What about loyalty?" Lorenzo asked.

"Loyalty is expected."

"From everyone else?"

"From everyone who serves the family."

"So what does the leader owe them in return?"

Dante’s eyes narrowed. "Protection, direction...strength."

"Does that leader owe them honesty?"

"He owes them results."

Lorenzo took a moment to ponder that answer. "And you think fear is enough to keep an organization together?"

"Fear has served the Castellis for generations."

"But fear also teaches people to hide problems until they explode into disasters. A leader who punishes every uncomfortable truth eventually fills his circle with liars, and a man who can’t tell loyalty from obedience will find out the hard way that no one will warn him before the ground falls out from under him."

Dante sneered. "You’ve gotten pretty damn good at dressing weakness up as wisdom."

"Maybe. But if I were to hand this position over to you, I’d need to be sure you understood what it means to protect the family, not just control it."

Those words made my stomach tense. Lorenzo sounded like giving up the title was a reasonable topic of discussion, and I had to remind myself that he was the kind of man who could make threats sound like tea party invitations.

"What would you do about the people behind the Paris attack?" he asked.

Dante didn’t hesitate. "Find them and make them pay for trying to kill my brother."

"Even if it turned out someone inside our organization was involved?"

For the first time, Dante’s expression shifted.

It was a subtle change, just a moment of hesitation before he replied, but I noticed it because Lorenzo did too.

"...Why are you even bringing Paris into this succession discussion?"

"Because anyone who wants to lead this family needs to know that protecting it isn’t the same as protecting its reputation."

"You’re turning this into an interrogation."

"You said you wanted the position," Lorenzo maintained, his voice still calm. "I’m just asking if you’re ready for the job."

Dante stared daggers at him, irritation flashing across his face, and I got the sinking feeling that Lorenzo was intentionally giving him enough slack to hang himself with.

Unfortunately, Dante looked like the kind of man who would use that rope to hang the nearest victim and then whine about the quality of the knot.

Lorenzo set down his glass and reached for his napkin again, but this time he didn’t bother to unfold it.

"My investigators have confirmed you were in Paris on the day of the gala bombing, you never mentioned that when I informed you of the attack back then."

The atmosphere shifted.

It wasn’t just the silence that followed; it was how everyone at the table suddenly became acutely aware of each other’s positions.

Matteo straightened up, Timothy’s gaze flicked towards Dante’s bodyguards, and even the guys near the walls tensed in their suits.

Dante’s expression hardened. "Did you summon me here to discuss succession or to accuse me of a crime?"

"I haven’t accused you of planting the bomb."

"Then what exactly am I being accused of?"

"Being in Paris without mentioning it and meeting someone possibly linked to an attack on our family."

Dante clenched his jaw. "Show me the evidence."

"No."

His eyes flared. "You want me to accept an accusation without seeing proof?!"

"I expect you to answer a question without me having to reveal my sources. You are my brother, Dante, not the head of my intelligence division."

"The footage could be faked, you idiot! Just being in Paris for a bit doesn’t make me responsible for a bombing!"