Chapter 8 - THE 107TH DAY
Conrad appeared on day 107.
Not night.
Morning.
Micah’s treatment center.
He walked through the front entrance wearing a gray suit and carrying no weapon.
He asked to see his grandson.
Security detained him immediately.
That seemed too easy.
It was.
Conrad wanted arrest.
Because arrest gave him a public stage.
His attorney filed emergency petitions claiming Raphael Orsini had kidnapped and manipulated Conrad’s grandchildren to steal their inheritance.
News exploded.
For the first time, my face appeared beside Raphael’s on television.
MAFIA SUCCESSION ROMANCE?
I hated journalists.
Raphael wanted to sue everyone.
His attorneys advised against suing the internet.
Micah thought the headline was hilarious.
“You’re famous.”
“I’ll trade.”
“No.”
Conrad presented photographs.
Me inside the estate.
Raphael outside Micah’s hospital.
Security personnel.
Money transfers.
But Raphael had been careful.
He had never paid Micah’s medical bills.
Never bought my apartment.
Never controlled my employment after I resigned.
The boundaries I once insisted on became our defense.
Conrad’s story collapsed under documentation.
Then Freddy testified.
Sabine testified.
Dominic testified.
And Julian’s recording entered evidence.
Conrad was arrested for conspiracy related to Julian’s death, extortion, stalking, unlawful surveillance, financial crimes and multiple other offenses.
But he had one final weapon.
The succession vote.
Even from custody, he could challenge Raphael.
On voting day, the Orsini captains assembled.
I did not attend.
Not my world.
Not my decision.
Raphael went alone.
Before leaving, he came to my apartment.
Suit.
Gray tie.
Perfect again.
But different.
“Wish me luck.”
“You don’t believe in luck.”
“I’ve changed.”
“Not that much.”
He smiled.
Then I asked:
“What happens if you lose?”
“A year ago?”
“Yes.”
“I would have destroyed everyone who voted against me.”
“And now?”
“I go home.”
“Where?”
He looked at me.
That was unfairly effective.
“Wherever you are.”
I kissed his cheek.
“Go.”
Raphael entered the meeting.
For the first time in Orsini history, he did not threaten anyone before the vote.
He presented financial plans to legalize remaining businesses.
Independent governance.
Removal of bloodline succession.
No more family control based solely on birth.
The men were stunned.
Raphael asked them to vote not merely on him.
Vote on whether the Orsini empire would remain a hereditary machine.
The count:
Eleven for reform.
Four against.
Two abstained.
Raphael remained chairman.
But no future child of his would automatically inherit.
Neither would Micah.
The machine Conrad tried to capture ceased to exist.
That night, Raphael returned to my apartment.
No entourage.
I opened the door.
“Well?”
“I won.”
I smiled.
“Congratulations.”
“I also eliminated the inheritance you apparently seduced me to obtain.”
“Damn.”
“I apologize.”
“There goes my retirement.”
He laughed.
Then his expression became serious.
“One hundred seven days.”
“What?”
“Today.”
I remembered.
The countdown.
The photographs.
The night he arrived drunk.
He looked exhausted again.
But not broken.
“What happens tomorrow?” I asked.
“Day one.”
“Of what?”
“I don’t know.”
May you like
Raphael Orsini—the man who once needed every answer—smiled.
For once, not knowing did not frighten him.
