Riona felt every muscle in her body turn to iron the moment Roland Vain’s shadow covered her son.
Eight years ago, Roland had been Aldrich’s right-hand advisor—a cold, ambitious strategist who viewed people as assets to be managed or liquidations to be processed. He was the one who had brought the forged bank transfers, the doctored phone transcripts, and the fake surveillance photos to Aldrich's private desk. He had framed her as a wiretapped informant for the federal authorities, forcing her to flee in the middle of the night with nothing but a shoulder bag and two hundred dollars in cash.
And now, Roland was standing six feet away, his sharp blue eyes dropping down to assess Anel like an unexpected line item on a balance sheet.
"No problem," Aldrich said softly, standing up slowly from the marble floor. His voice had returned to its dangerous, terrifying stillness, but the air around him had grown distinctly colder. He didn't break eye contact with Roland. "No problem at all, Roland."
"Who is he, Mama?" Anel asked, his small voice clear and remarkably steady despite the ring of dark-suited men surrounding them. He didn't look at Roland; he looked at Aldrich. "Is he your friend?"
Riona pulled Anel behind her skirt, her fingers digging into his shoulder with a gentle, protective force. "No, sweetie. He's just someone from a long time ago."
"She was your guest, wasn't she, Aldrich?" Roland murmured, his smile fading into something calculation-driven. "Riona Mallister. I remember her. I thought she left Canada years ago after... well, after the misunderstanding regarding the eastern docks."
"It wasn't a misunderstanding," Riona said, lifting her chin, letting her eyes burn through Roland with absolute hatred. "It was a setup. And you know it."
Roland didn't blink. "Accusations without ledger entries are just noise, Miss Mallister. But I am curious... why come back today? After eight years of quiet exile, why show your face at Cosmo’s final mass?"
"She didn't come for the mass," Aldrich interjected smoothly, taking half a step sideways, placing his imposing frame directly between Roland and Riona's child. The movement was subtle, but to everyone trained in the Ferrante hierarchy, it was a massive shift in territorial defense. "She came because she belonged here once."
"She broke protocol, Aldrich," Roland reminded him in a hushed, dangerous whisper, leaning in close so the lingering churchgoers couldn't hear. "The council still has an open file on her. If she's back in Montreal, she needs to be brought before the board for questioning. That's the law Cosmo laid down."
"Cosmo is in a wooden box, Roland," Aldrich said, his voice dropping an octave, carrying a dark, razor-like edge that made even his own bodyguards adjust their stance. "And I am the one wearing the ring now."
Roland’s eyes flicked down to Aldrich’s right hand, where the heavy gold signet ring of the Ferrante patriarch now sat. A flicker of annoyance crossed Roland’s face, instantly masked by a polite bow of his head.
"Of course, Boss," Roland murmured. "The council will await your instructions at the estate. But don't let personal sentiment cloud your judgment. A child with no verified lineage is a vulnerability."
"Touch him," Aldrich said, his voice terrifyingly calm, "and you'll find out how vulnerable you are."
Roland held Aldrich’s stare for three agonizing seconds before stepping back, bowing slightly, and walking toward the main doors of the basilica, his dark coat sweeping behind him.
Riona let out a breath she didn't realize she was holding. But her relief was short-lived. As soon as Roland was out of earshot, Aldrich turned back to her, his expression unreadable, his eyes locked onto hers.
"You're coming with me," Aldrich said. It wasn't a request.
"I am not going anywhere with you, Aldrich," Riona said fiercely, holding Anel’s hand tighter. "I came to do one thing, and then I am taking my son back to the airport."
"You think you can walk out of this city after showing me my son?" Aldrich’s jaw clenched, a vein pulsing near his temple. "You think Roland Vain will let a boy with my face walk around Vancouver unprotected now that he knows he exists? You step out onto that street without my detail, Riona, and you won't make it to the highway."
Riona knew he was right. She knew how the family worked. A hidden heir was either a weapon to be controlled or a threat to be eliminated. By stepping into Saint Patrick's today, she had pulled the pin on a grenade she had carried for seven years.
"I have a room at the Le St-Martin," she said defensively.
"You had a room there," Aldrich corrected her, gesturing to his chief of security, a massive man named Marco whom Riona remembered from her past. "Marco has already checked you out and brought your luggage to my car."
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Riona’s eyes flashed with anger. "You have no right!"
"I have every right," Aldrich said, stepping so close she could smell the familiar, painful scent of his cedarwood cologne and cold rain. He leaned down, his voice dropping into an agonizingly soft whisper meant only for her. "You took seven years of his life from me, Riona. You don't get to take another minute. We go to the estate. We settle the ledger. And then... we talk about what you owe me."
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