Chapter 4 - The Second Testament
The elevator reached the penthouse redoubt with a soft chime, but nobody moved. The air inside the small steel cab felt thick enough to suffocate.
The Patriarch leaned on his gold-headed cane, meeting Rocco’s unflinching gaze without a single blink. "Julian is a desperate boy trying to sow chaos before his neck snaps under the weight of his treason. You would believe a rat caught in a trap, Elena?"
"I asked you about the second will two months ago, Dad," Elena whispered, her voice raw. Maya was kneeling before her, rolling up Elena’s sleeve to administer a dose of terbutaline to halt the uterine spasms. "You told me the rumors from the board were fabricated by the European syndicate. But Julian knew the specific clause. He called it the 'Posthumous Exclusion Protocol.'"
Maya injected the clear liquid into Elena's vein. "Fetal heart rate is elevated. One-eighty. We need her lying flat, and we need her heart rate under one-ten, or she’s risking an emergency placental tear."
Rocco didn't wait for permission. He scooped Elena up again and carried her through the biometric doors into the penthouse's private medical suite. The room was sterile, walls insulated with ballistic fiberglass, windows made of four-inch polycarbonate that could withstand a rocket-propelled grenade.
He placed her on the central examination bed. Maya immediately went to work, setting up the portable ultrasound monitor. The steady, frantic *thump-thump-thump* of the unborn child’s heart filled the quiet room, sounding like a bird trapped against glass.
Outside the glass partition, the Patriarch stood watching his daughter. Rocco stepped through the partition door, closing it softly so Elena couldn't hear.
"Is it true?" Rocco asked. His voice wasn't loud, but it held the dangerous resonance of a weapon being cocked.
"My empire spans four continents, Rocco," the Patriarch answered, looking through the glass at Elena’s strained face. "A woman carrying an unborn child is considered weak by our enemies. If anything happens to me, the wolves do not wait for the heir to learn to walk. They tear the nursery apart."
"Did you sign an alternate succession clause that disinherits her child if born outside full-term health?" Rocco stepped closer, towering over the old billionaire. "Because if you did, you gave every ambitious parasite in this house a bounty on that baby’s life."
The Patriarch slowly turned his head. "I built the rules of this family to ensure survival. If an heir cannot defend the throne, the throne chooses another."
"She’s your daughter."
"And you are my head of security," the Patriarch snapped, his eyes flashing with lethal authority. "Your duty is not to lecture me on morality. Your duty is to eliminate the threats. I gave you the list of suspects three hours ago."
"The list was a diversion," Rocco said, pulling a folded manifest from his inside pocket and holding it up. "The names on your list were junior partners. You left out the one person who controls the outer gates."
May you like
The lights in the suite flickered once. Twice. Then went entirely black.
***
