Chapter 9 - The Shadow Empire
I stood completely frozen, staring at the man I had mourned for nearly two decades.
My father was alive, and he was the architect of every single nightmare I had survived tonight.
"You ordered Victoria to hire these mercenaries to attack me?" I asked, my voice barely a whisper.
Vincent patted my shoulder affectionately, as if we were discussing a simple business transaction.
"I needed to know if you were ruthless enough to inherit a truly global syndicate, Roman."
"You passed every single test with flying colors."
He gestured toward the massive, idling helicopter waiting on the docks.
"Inside that cabin is the accumulated wealth of seventeen years of absolute shadow control."
"I have eradicated our enemies, bought the politicians, and secured a dynasty that will last for centuries."
He looked toward the hollowed-out dry dock where Clara and the kids were hiding.
"Go get the little girls, son."
"We are going home."
A profound sense of overwhelming relief washed over my exhausted body.
The war was finally over, and I had miraculously won.
I had survived the betrayal of my wife, protected the innocent children, and regained the ultimate protector in my father.
I lowered my rifle completely and nodded.
"They are in the submarine bay," I told him.
I walked back into the dry dock and opened the heavy iron grate.
Clara emerged first, looking terrified, followed by Mia, who was holding the sleeping baby tightly.
When Clara saw my father standing on the docks, she let out a broken, terrified whimper and hid behind my back.
"It's okay, Clara," Vincent smiled warmly, leaning on his silver cane.
"You are free now."
"I forgive you for your past transgressions."
I guided my shattered, makeshift family toward the safety of the massive helicopter.
The heavily armed soldiers saluted us as we walked up the metal ramp into the luxurious cabin.
The interior was lined with expensive leather and polished mahogany.
Vincent sat down in the plush captain's chair and poured two glasses of expensive scotch.
He handed one to me, his eyes gleaming with absolute triumph.
"To the new Duca dynasty," my father toasted, raising his glass.
I clinked my glass against his, feeling a deep, powerful sense of invincibility.
Vincent reached into his tailored jacket and pulled out a thick, sealed leather folder.
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"These are the founding documents of your new empire, Roman."
"Open them."
