glimmer

Chapter 8 - 99.9%

The sequencer beeped with a soft, clinical chime.

Julian pulled the thermal paper printout from the small machine and scanned the complex genetic sequences. He looked up, his eyes wide with a mixture of reverence and profound sorrow.

"Ninety-nine point nine percent probability," Julian announced. "They are your sons, Alejandro. Bone of your bone, blood of your blood. Sofia gave you four healthy, genetically pure heirs before she slipped away."

I walked toward the bed.

The silence in the cabin was suffocating. I knelt down beside the mattress, my massive, calloused hand hovering over Mateo’s forehead. His skin was warm. As I lightly brushed a stray lock of dark hair from his eyes, the boy stirred, his eyelashes fluttering open.

He didn't pull away.

Instead, he reached out, wrapped his small fingers around my index finger, and squeezed with surprising strength.

"Papa?" he murmured, half-asleep.

"I'm here, son," I choked out, a single, solitary tear burning down my scarred cheek before I could wipe it away. "I'm right here."

Nico turned in his sleep, his little hand flopping onto my forearm. Lucas and Leo curled closer against my knees.

For five years, I had believed that Sofia’s death had hollowed me out completely, leaving behind nothing but an engine of violence and business strategy. I had thought myself invincible because I had nothing left to lose.

I was wrong.

Now, I had four tiny, fragile reasons to live. And that made me ten times more dangerous than I had ever been.

"Elena," I said without looking back.

"Yes, Don Alejandro?"

"From this moment forward, you are no longer a housekeeper. You are their godmother, under the full blood protection of the Moretti name. If anyone raises a hand against you, I will flay them alive."

Elena dropped to her knees, weeping quietly into her apron. "Thank you, Alejandro. Sofia always knew... she always said that underneath the darkness, your heart belonged to your family."

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"My family is at war," I replied coldly, rising to my full height. "And it's time to purge the traitors."

***

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