Chapter 16%
She wants a war Fine. She’ll get one.!!
I started making my list. Step one? Discredit her.”
Publicly. Loudly. Fatally. I’d frame her if I had to. Set her up with illegal money trails. Tie her to a hit she didn’t order. Leak doctored videos. Spread whispers in all the wrong ears. Maybe even throw her name on a weapons shipment the feds are already sniffing around.
Hell, I’d pay someone to plant something in her damn penthouse. Because if I let her keep rising, she’ll bury me before I get the chance to bury her.
And I didn’t come this far–didn’t bleed and sacrifice and manipulate Zeus into giving me his name–for some ghost bitch to walk back in and take my crown
If Savannah Moretti wants to play queen?
Then I’ll remind her who built the throne.
And how fast I can set it on fire.
=
Next morning…
I stood in front of the minor at three in the goddamn morning, bathrobe half open, staring at a face that used to turn heads without trying.
But now?%
Now all I saw was someone he barely looked at
He walked past me like I was fumiture, Breathed the same air like I didn’t exist. And when he did look at me. It wasn’t me he was seeing.
It was her!
Savannah. Fucking. Moretti.!!
I pulled out the tablet and zoomed in on the charity gala photo again. That smug little tilt of her chin. The Moretti hair bullshit. The crimson dress hugging her like she was royalty. And she knew Zeus would see it. She wanted to be found.
Fine. Let’s play
[Private Clinic, Milan. Surgical Consultation Room.
The room was sterile but expensive. The kind of clinic you pay in cash and confidentiality.
Dr. Vincento walked in wearing all black, smug and too clean.
“You understand what you’re asking for, Mrs. Lambert?” he said in that bored, aristocratic tone doctors who get paid too much use.
Tm not asking. I’m paying.”
He blinked. “You brought…reference photos.“8
I slid them across the table. “Her. I want soft cheekbones–subtle. Don’t make me look like I went to LA and came back a Kardashian. Just enough, I want him to glance at me and hesitate.“8
He picked one up and studied it. “She’s delicate”
“She’s a ghost. I’m the woman he woke up next to for the past three years. Make me unforgettable, Doctor. Make him suffer for ever looking away”
He cleared his throat. “Cheekbone shaving, jawline softening, subtle lip augmentation, minor lift around the eyes. It’ll take two sessions. Three weeks apart. No scars.”
“Money is not the problem. Just don’t fuck it up.“2.
“Of course not. But Mrs. Lambert-”
I held up a hand. “I don’t want a speech. Just a date.“)
-8
[Back Home Lambert Estatel
I knew the staff was whispering. You could feel it in the way silence fell when I entered a room.
And then the straw!!
“Mama, who’s Savannah?”
I froze. My son. My beautiful boy. Standing there with a juice pouch and too much innocence. “What did you just say, baby?
“I heard Ana say Papa used to love a girl named Savannah. She said she might be back”
I turned slowly. Looked over my shoulder. And then I called for them.
“Ana. Petra, Ilya. Living room. Now.””
They lined up like schoolgirls facing a principal. I paced in front of them, barefoot, robe still on, my expression calm. Too calm.!!!
“Did I ever ask for your thoughts on this family?“||
No one spoke. I turned to Ana. Slapped her hard. Her head jerked sideways.!!
“Did I say you could speak about her around my son?“}
“N–no, ma’am ”
I moved to Petra, Slapped her too. Clean, Hard, Sharp across the cheek.
“What about you, Petra? Gossiping by the window again? That what I pay you for?“K
“No, Mrs. Lambert ”
“Then shut your mouth or I’ll have it sewn shut.”
Ilya trembled before I even reached her.
I leaned in. Voice like ice. “If I ever hear that name again… I will fire all three of you so fast, your families will feel the whiplash. And if anyone–and I mean anyone–says her name around my son, I’ll make sure you leave this house in pieces. Understood?”
They all nodded, eyes wet, hands shaking.
“Get out of my sight
They scattered like rats, and I stood there, heart racing, breathing through clenched teeth. My hand stung from the hits, but I felt alive for the first time in days. That name wasn’t welcome here. Not in this house. Not near my child.
And later that evening…!
I dressed our son in a tailored little linen set, White and gold. He looked angelic. Like a perfect Lambert heir. I curled his hair slightly, just the way Zeus liked. Then I touched up my makeup, dabbed Savannah’s old perfume on my wrists–yes, hers–and stepped into the garden
with him.
I took photos.
Dozens. Posted the best ones with a caption dripping in sugar:
“Grateful for the life we’ve built. #FamilyFirst #TheLamberts “W
Let her see that. Let them see that!
I stepped into Zeus’s study with our son in my arms. The heavy scent of cigars, whiskey, and regret clung to the air like old ghosts. He sat behind that massive desk, elbow propped up, fingers to his temple. Like a king on a crumbling throne. But one glance told me everything
He wasn’t thinking about me.S
I smiled anyway. Soft, Warm, Fake.
“Look,” I said, keeping my tone gentle, placing our son in his lap. “He misses you.”
Zeus didn’t blink, Didn’t even look down at his own child. No emotion. Just that dead stare, locked on me like he was studying a puzzle piece that didn’t quite fit
And then his eyes narrowed.
His gaze dragged slowly across my cheekbones… down my jawline… the softened shape of my lips. He squinted–like something was crawling at the edge of his memory. Like he was seeing her!!
Good.
That was the fucking point
I gave a little smile and leaned in.)
“Say something” I whispered, resting my hand on his thigh, eyes batting slow. My thumb circled softly on the fabric of his slacks.
He didn’t flinch. Just breathed in deeper.
I leaned in closer. Closer still. His cologne was faint but still masculine. Still familiar. Still mine.
“Zeus,” I whispered colder this time, tightening my grip on his leg, “if you betray this family your son grows up without a father.”
