Chapter 37 - The devil's dinner
Richard did not lower his weapon. His red dot optic remained pinned dead-center on Julian’s chest, steady as a marble column. Behind him, Viktor and the strike team fanned out into tactical corners, covering every entry point and shadow.
"Where is the Vatican delegation, Julian?" Richard asked, his voice cutting through the swelling violins of the stereo. "Where are the men who financed your resurrection?"
Julian chewed his steak, swallowed, and dabbed his lips with a linen napkin. "They left six hours ago, Father. The Geneva banking council accepted the final cryptographic signature. As of two o’clock this afternoon, the forty billion belongs entirely to the Bellacorte Global Foundation. I am the sole signatory. Arthur’s empire, your empire, the Five Families' offshore trust—it is all consolidated."
"You built an empire on the back of a freezing five-year-old child," Richard said, stepping forward, his boots clicking rhythmically against the stone flags. "You starved your own son. You chemically altered his brain so he wouldn't scream while you watched him freeze."
Julian’s eyes hardened, the aristocratic polish slipping away to reveal the cold, mechanical monster beneath. "Noah survived. And in twenty years, he will thank me. Do you know what you made me, Father? You made me weak. You raised me in luxury, surrounded by bodyguards, telling me I was royalty before I had ever spilled blood. When that yacht exploded in Sicily six years ago, I didn't plan it. Arthur really tried to kill me."
Richard halted ten paces from the table. "Arthur?"
"Yes! Arthur!" Julian spat, slamming his silverware onto the mahogany table with sudden, violent passion. "Your beloved enforcer! Your trusted brother! He wired the bomb to my fuel tank! I spent two years in a North African burn ward, skin grafted from my thighs onto my face, watching the news while you embraced Arthur as your chief of staff! You didn't investigate! You didn't tear down the city to find my killers! You retired to your garden and let Arthur run the streets!"
Richard’s gaze did not waver, but inside, a dark realization struck him. The rot had begun far earlier than he had ever imagined.
"So you decided to punish Noah?" Richard asked, his voice dangerously soft. "Noah was an infant when you vanished."
"Noah is my legacy!" Julian hissed, standing up, his tall frame casting a long shadow across the hall. "I needed to know if he had your weakness or my steel. I watched him through the drones while he stood in that snow. I saw him hold his head high. He didn't cry. He walked toward your gate like a soldier. He has my blood, Richard. Not yours."
"You're wrong, Julian," Richard said, taking two more slow, deliberate steps forward. "He didn't survive because of your steel. He survived because Sarah held his hand. Because an innocent woman loved him enough to take bullets for him. Something you will never understand."
Julian let out a bitter, mocking laugh. "Sarah? You think Sarah is an innocent nurse?"
Richard’s brow furrowed slightly, though his gun barrel remained level.
May you like
Julian smiled, a vicious, triumphant smirk spreading across his scarred, reconstructed face. He reached into his breast pocket with agonizing slowness, keeping his fingers flat and open. He tossed a thin, leather-bound dossier onto the table, sliding it toward Richard.
"Read it, Father," Julian whispered, leaning forward on his knuckles. "Read who Sarah Jenkins really is. You thought you were protecting my son from me. You haven't the faintest idea what you brought into your house."
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