Chapter 44 - Bloodline Unveiled
Before we could finalize our departure for Europe, the sanctuary’s high-frequency communications grid intercepted an incoming private transmission. It bypassed all civilian routing, punching directly through our military-grade satellite node.
A chime echoed. On the primary center screen, an audio wave pulsed.
"Good evening, Clara," a smooth, cultured voice resonated through the bunker. It was Lucian Castiglione himself.
I stepped up to the console, signaling Marcus to trace the signal through twenty proxy servers.
"You have five seconds to state your business before I trace your location and bury you in the sea," I replied, voice dripping with contempt.
A soft, aristocratic laugh came through the speaker. "Fierce. Arthur truly understated your fire. It is no wonder Leo survived his little trial at the Sterling estate. His resilience comes not just from my blood, but from your stubborn maternal instinct. For that, you have my gratitude."
"Gratitude?" I scoffed. "You paid Arthur fifty million to harvest my womb, watched from the shadows while my boy was neglected, and now you have the arrogance to speak of gratitude?"
"Arthur was a tool. Weak men serve crude purposes," Lucian said dismissively. "The contract is legally binding under international maritime maritime sovereignty laws. Leo is the rightful heir to eight hundred billion dollars in global assets. He belongs in a palace, trained in diplomacy, finance, and warfare—not playing in the sand of a coastal hideout with a disgraced heiress and an ex-intelligence officer."
"He belongs with his mother," I spat. "The only person who bathed his bruised knees in warm water, who held him when he wept, and who slaughtered everyone who ever raised a hand against him."
"Then hear me clearly, Clara," Lucian's tone hardened, chilling to sub-zero temperature. "In forty-eight hours, Leo turns five. If you bring him to the Hotel de Paris in Monaco willingly, you will be granted fifty million euros and an estate anywhere in the world. If you refuse... I will deploy three strike teams to raze your sanctuary to ash. They will kill Julian. They will eliminate your guards. And Leo will watch you die before he is brought home to me."
The line went dead.
Marcus shook his head grimly. "Trace failed. Routed through six private orbital constellations."
I looked down at the desk, where Leo’s colored drawing of a big golden lion and a smaller lion sat tucked beneath a crystal paperweight. My knuckles turned white against the edge of the console.
"Julian," I commanded softly.
"Ready, Clara."
"Call our contacts in the French Foreign Legion reserves and transfer five hundred million into the Swiss dummy accounts. We aren't going to Monaco to negotiate."
May you like
I loaded a fresh magazine into my sidearm with a sharp, decisive *clack*.
"We're going to crash a party."
