Chapter 8 - The Mother’s Betrayal
Leandro stared up at his mother in stunned disbelief.
Maribel slowly walked down the metal stairs, her heels clicking rhythmically against the concrete floor. She looked down at Julian Cross, who was clutching his bleeding, shattered wrist and groaning in agony.
“You... you bitch,” Julian hissed through clenched teeth, glaring up at Maribel. “You promised me the syndicate!”
Maribel stopped a few feet away, looking down at Julian with utter disdain. “I promised you nothing of the sort, Julian. You were merely a convenient tool to weed out the weak elements of this family—starting with your pathetic ambition.”
Leandro stood up slowly, keeping a wary distance from both of them. He kept his weapon drawn, trained directly on Maribel. “You orchestrated all of this? The coup, the Moretti alliance, the internal betrayal—just to test me?”
Maribel turned her gaze to her son, her expression softening into something chillingly proud.
“To forge iron, Leandro, you have to throw it into the fire,” Maribel said smoothly, stepping closer. “If you had fallen for Julian’s trap, you wouldn’t have deserved the Vane name. But you survived. You saw through the lies, you secured your mother, and you hunted down the rat.”
“You risked our entire empire for a test?” Leandro’s voice shook with suppressed rage. “People died last night, Mother! Innocent blood was spilled because of your sick games!”
“Power isn’t polite, Leandro,” Maribel snapped back, her eyes flashing dangerously. “And sentimentality is a death sentence in our world. Look around you. You are standing atop an empire stronger and purer than it has ever been, because every traitor has exposed themselves.”
Before Leandro could reply, the sound of sirens echoed from above, followed by the heavy thrumming of approaching helicopter rotors overhead. Daphne and Estelle stepped into the garage, flanked by a dozen heavily armed guards securing the perimeter.
“The rest of the corrupted councilmen have been secured,” Daphne announced, her eyes narrowing as she spotted Maribel standing beside the injured Julian. “What do we do with her?”
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Maribel didn’t look panicked. Instead, she offered a serene, chilling smile, turning her back on Leandro and walking toward the waiting black sedan.
“Keep the throne, my son,” Maribel called back over her shoulder, sliding into the passenger seat of the car as it sped away into the underground tunnel. “You’ve earned it. For now.”
