He's running late," Alexander snapped at his secretary, who stood quietly by his side, his expression a mixture of confusion and unease.
It had been well over an hour since they were seated inside the luxurious private restaurant, waiting for their much-anticipated guest to arrive. A guest whom others would kill to have the privilege of meeting. A guest Alexander could not afford to lose. The only reason he had not stormed out yet, was because he knew there might never be a second chance to sit across from this man again.
Roman Ivanov.
Even the name carried weight. A name whispered with fear, respect, and hatred depending on which side of the line one stood. To Alexander Blackheart, it meant danger. Treachery. A declaration of war. He was fully aware that by reaching out to Roman he was digging his own grave, aligning himself with the sworn enemy of his family. Yet he could not help himself.
Because what his brother Christopher had done was a betrayal worse than death. Allowing a stranger—an illegitimate nobody with no rightful claim—to run the family's empire in his absence? That was spitting in the face of every Blackheart that came before them.
"I think it's a sign that you should reconsider…" John, his secretary, said carefully, his voice a whisper.
But Alexander's piercing look cut him short. John shut his mouth immediately. As much as he was the one who had arranged this secret meeting, even he still believed it was a mistake. It wasn't just dangerous—it was reckless. To go behind the family's back, to undermine Antonio, and to seek aid from their greatest enemy… it was unthinkable.
The family's patriarch, Alexander's father—the big boss—was still on his extended vacation, blissfully silent about Antonio's recent decisions. He had shown no disapproval, no outrage, nothing. But Alexander could see the difference clearly. His nephew's ambition was unmatched. Antonio was determined to prove himself, to be what their father never was. And that scared Alexander more than he wanted to admit.
"He's probably being held in traffic," Alexander muttered, half to John, half to himself. He clenched his jaw, trying to rationalize the insult of being made to wait. "You know how it can be this late in the city."
He wanted to believe it. Roman Ivanov was a busy man. But hadn't he, Alexander, cleared his own schedule to be here tonight? Hadn't he swallowed his pride and extended his hand to a man who should have been his executioner? It would be a slap to the face if Roman didn't show—or worse, if he sent no explanation at all.
"Sir, with all due respect, it's been more than an hour," John said carefully, his voice edged with concern. "I don't think he's going to show up."
Alexander spun around, his dark eyes burning holes into his secretary.
"Or maybe you never reached out to him in the first place." His voice cracked with venom. "Seeing as you've been against this meeting from the start, how am i sure you even set it up?"
John stiffened. "Sir, of course i reached out to his secretary. I would never betray you—"
"Then why isn't he here?!" Alexander roared, his fist slamming down against the polished table with a sharp crack. Glasses rattled, silverware jumped. His hand curled into a tight fist, the tendons straining beneath his skin.
His whole life was unraveling. The family business slipping further and further from his grasp. The gang's loyalty slowly leaning away. And worst of all—his son.
Jason.
The boy was the embodiment of his shame. Irresponsible. Reckless. A disappointment whispered about in both the boardroom and the underworld. And now, rumors spread faster than fire—that Antonio was winning hearts, that even their enemies admired him, that Jason was nothing more than a joke.
For Jason's sake—for his son's survival—Alexander needed power. He needed leverage. He needed Roman.
Before he could speak again, John's phone began to ring.
"Who is it?" Alexander demanded instantly. His heart skipped. "Is it him? Is it Roman?"
But the look on John's face told another story. His secretary hesitated, his lips parting but no words coming out.
"Speak!" Alexander barked.
"It's… about Jason," John said finally, his voice low, almost reluctant.
Alexander didn't need further explanation. Rage boiled inside him. Jason had messed up again.
The Blackheart Family Estate
The elevator doors slid open with a soft chime, revealing Jason standing awkwardly in the center of the grand sitting room. His disheveled hair, nervous posture, and the faint tremor in his voice betrayed his fear.
"Father, I can explain—"
"You stupid boy!" Alexander's voice thundered as he crossed the room with terrifying speed. His foot shot out, striking Jason hard in the chest. The boy flew backwards, crashing against the edge of the sofa before crumpling onto the carpeted floor.
"How many times must i clean up after your mess?" Alexander roared, tugging violently at his tie as though it were choking him. He kicked Jason again, this time in the ribs. The boy curled up, blood spraying from his mouth onto the expensive rug.
Not satisfied, Alexander stretched his hand out toward one of his men. Without hesitation, they placed an iron bat into his palm.
Jason's half-conscious eyes widened.
Alexander raised the bat high above his head—
"Alex!!"
Celine's voice sliced through the chaos. Jason's mother rushed into the room, throwing herself protectively over her son's battered body.
"Get out of the way," Alexander ordered, his eyes blazing.
"No!" she cried, her arms wrapping tightly around Jason. "You'll kill him! He's your son, Alex. Please, sweetheart, stop this madness!"
"You are the reason he refuses to grow up!" Alexander snapped, his rage now directed at her. "You've spoiled him rotten. Do you even know what your precious son did this time?" His chest heaved as he glared at Jason's bleeding form. "He killed Aaron. My guard. My most loyal man!"
Celine froze, but her resolve didn't waver. "He must have done something to Jason first. That doesn't mean you get to murder your own child!"
"He's not a child—he's a disgrace!" Alexander shouted. "Do you know what people are saying out there? They laugh at him. They laugh at me. While Antonio—Antonio, the bastard Christopher raised—earns their respect."
Jason, his lips bloodied, finally forced out words. "He… insulted me. In front of my friends. What was i supposed to do!"
"You were under house arrest!" Alexander bellowed. "Aaron was doing his job! Why did you kill him?"
Jason's eyes filled with tears and fury. "Because of you!"
Alexander faltered. "What?"
"Because of you," Jason repeated, his voice hoarse but filled with bitterness. "You never look at me, never treat me like your son. Every day it's Antonio this, Antonio that. You don't care how it feels when you compare me to him. So yeah, I did it. I killed Aaron. Just to get your attention!"
"You dare raise your voice at me?" Alexander's finger shook as he pointed at him. His veins pulsed in his temples.
"He didn't mean it, Alex. He's just angry," Celine tried desperately to calm them. "Jason, apologize to your father."
"I did nothing wrong!" Jason spat, glaring up at Alexander. "Aaron disrespected me. Everyone disrespects me because of you!"
Celine cupped her son's face, whispering urgently. "It doesn't matter, it doesn't change the fact that you're Alexander Blackheart's son. You must apologize."
But Jason turned away stubbornly.
Alexander's lips curled in disgust. "You're going back to Japan. You don't deserve to be here."
"No!" Celine snapped, rising to her feet. "He's not going anywhere! He's your blood, Alex!"
"I've made my decision," Alexander growled, his voice final. He turned to John. "Take him to his room. Don't let him out of your sight."
John signaled to the guards, who lifted Jason to his feet. The boy's blood smeared across their hands as they dragged him away.
Alexander stormed out of the sitting room, his wife trailing behind, her pleas falling on deaf ears. His mind was made up.
If Jason could not prove his worth… then he had no place under the same roof.
Not as a son.
Not as a Blackheart.