Alpha Damon novel Chapter 115

Lysandra:

A sister.

Him having a daughter.

A woman before my mother, someone who was in his life before Mother ever appeared, before she chose to disappear

too.

The words wouldn’t stop echoing in my mind.

I paced my bedroom like a caged animal, arms wrapped tightly around myself as if doing so would keep me from unraveling. A sister. A blood relative raised in silence, in secrecy, nurtured by the same man who claimed to love me more than anything, our father. The same man who claimed to be building everything for me, yet seemed to have a different perspective on things. Seemed to be playing a game that I did not put in consideration.

Giovanni, my father, had spoken it so calmly. So matter-of-factly. As if it was just another chess move in his grand design. As if her existence didn’t rip open something inside of me that I hadn’t even realized was fragile. A certain contentment that I had that I did not think about until today, until he spoke that word.

The girl existed. And not just anywhere. She was not just a bastard that he chose to get rid of, that he chose to ignore, that he chose not to acknowledge she was known to someone, that he was playing with. She was not some one that he did not want in his life.

She was trained. Prepared. Raised to be the blade in my father’s hand. Groomed to cut through me, through Sienna, through everything we’d built or thought we were entitled to. He has been training her for this moment, he’s been training her to claim what he’s been building. What I fought hard and strong to build by his side.

She was coming. And it was going to be soon, sooner than I would want to admit, for me to simply find out about this and just accept it. For him to expect me to accept it now, this was not something that I could just easily do.

And I didn’t know whether I was supposed to fear her… or be her. I did not know how I was going to be able to claim my part. I did not know how I was going to be able to stand or what I would be doing or saying once I’ve seen her.

I stormed down the long hall toward my father’s study, not bothering to knock this time. If he could hurl life- altering news at me without a second thought, then I could damn well storm into his space and demand answers. He looked up from his desk as I entered, his glass of scotch in his hand again. As if nothing had changed. As if my whole world hadn’t tilted sideways.

“You said Marissa died saving Damon,” I began, voice low but sharp. “Burned in a building. But what about my mother?” I crossed the room slowly, fingers clenching and unclenching. “You talk about that woman like she was everything to you. You spoke of her despite her choosing another man, as if she was everything in your eyes. And I know for a fact that if she had not left, I would assume that you wouldn’t have fought back. She would have been in your life until to day. You spoke of her like she was the one you truly loved. So what was my mother, Father? A placeholder?”

Giovanni leaned back in his chair, the firelight dancing in his eyes. “Your mother was… necessary. At the time. She knew her duties and I knew mine.”

“Necessary,” I spat. “That’s all she was? Duties. Both of you were duties towards one another?”

“She was strong. Obedient. She helped build my empire. But she was not the woman I loved,” he said, unashamed. “

Your mother knew it. She always knew it. But she wanted a child. An heir. And I… needed to keep moving forward. And she helped move that. She served with that duty.”

I couldn’t breathe for a second. It was as if the walls had closed in.

“She left without a word,” I said. “She vanished, and you told me she died. Was that a lie too? Did you hide her? Did you take her away from me? If she did, where is she? You never allowed me to see her grave. You never allowed me to go and visit her or even try and speak of her name.”

Giovanni’s expression didn’t waver. “She did die. But not before realizing that she could never compete with a ghost. That even in death, Marissa had more of me than your mother ever could. Your mother knew that. She understood that. She sustained herself and one day she died. End of story.”

I sank into the chair across from him, my throat dry, heart pounding. “And now you’re giving everything… to her daughter. To your beloved’s child.”

There it was.

“Yes. But not hers.”

And that was the difference.

That was what would tear us apart.

Not the war.

Not the politics.

But the blood.

And for the first time…

I didn’t know if I was angry…

Or just terrified.

“That might be true, not hers, but I stood by your side when she was. Wherever it is that you chose to keep her safe and. I was the one who grew up in your arms when she was growing in a different man’s arms before you claimed her. I would recommend that you remember that, father…”