Page 80 of Brutal Crown
“This child—conceived by a made man,” he continues, “fulfills a condition described in a prophecy the Elders have guarded for generations.
“He broke no law. At the time of conception, he had not yet been initiated, nor was he bound to another founding family. The bloodline remains unclaimed, unentangled—exactly as the prophecy foretold.
“A child born of unbound blood, carrying the mark of both worlds, destined to either dismantle our order from within… or lead it into an era of unshakable dominance.
“That child is no longer legend. He exists. Here. Among us.
“And if we fail to protect him—if we treat this moment as anything less than what it is—we risk unraveling everything this Council was built to preserve. This marriage does not exist to legitimize a mistake. It is a strategic act—to ensure that what’s coming belongs to us.”
“But she’s a servant,” someone from the Castellano table objects. “Surely there are other ways to?—”
“Are you questioning the Council’s decision?” Dante’s voice cuts through the room like a blade.
The man looks down immediately. “No, Don Romano. Of course not.”
Elder Vescovi nods once. “Then let it be recorded: The child she carries must be protected. Lia Romano is to receive all rights and protections of a Romano wife. This union ensures our legacy. It reminds every man in this room that prophecy is not ignored.”
Marco’s hand tightens slightly on my back. I can feel the shift in the room’s energy—from skepticism to calculated acceptance.
“Any family that objects to this arrangement,” Dante adds, his tone deadly quiet, “is free to voice their concerns directly to me. I assure you, I will give such concerns my… personal attention.”
The threat hangs in the air like smoke.
Elder Vescovi raises his glass. “To unity. To loyalty. To the future of our families.”
“To unity,” the room echoes, though some voices are more enthusiastic than others.
As the Elder sits down, I catch fragments of whispered conversations:
“Well, if the Council approved it… who are we to question it?”
“The prophecy… it makes sense now.”
“She carries the future. That’s all that matters now.”
“Looks like the maid just became the most protected woman in the room.”
Marco finally raises his own glass and introduces me formally as his bride-to-be. This time, the applause is more genuine, though I can still see calculation in many eyes.
They’re not clapping for me; they’re clapping for the politics of it, for the way the Romanos have managed to turn a potential scandal into a demonstration of power.
After that, no one makes any further comment about the sudden engagement or the fact that a Romano is marrying a lowlife like me. But I see the questions in their eyes, the way their gazes dart between us and then to Dante, trying to read something deeper than what is displayed on the surface.
Neither of the other Romano brothers is here. Elio left this morning and Francesco…
I haven’t seen him since I walked out of the living room yesterday, and I heard he didn’t sleep at the estate. I wish we had the liberty to talk. I wish I could have told him myself that the child belongs to him.
Does he think I had sex with Marco? Does he think I have feelings for Marco? Does he think I’m happy with Marco?
The questions repeat themselves on a loop. I don’t know what to think about the whole situation, so I don’t think about it at all.
Marco stands up and moves behind my chair. I feel something cold settle on the skin around my neck. A soft gasp leaves my lips as I glance down.
It’s pure emerald, held with a silver band that rests just above my collarbone. It’s worth my entire life and almost too heavy for my neck.
“A family heirloom,” Marco tells the room, not just me. “To mark her place as a member of our family.”
“You are now one of us,” Dante says, but his words are directed at the room as much as at me.
