Chapter 116:Heir to the Empire Ro

Flashback 23 years ago

Author’s point of view

With the dry, customary manner of Violet, she showed no emotional interest or maternal instinct toward the infant, and averted her head with fatigue and exhaustion on the bed. However, her eyes noticed for mere few seconds those two small dimples that adorned the small child’s cheeks upon her movement... two unique dimples that exactly resembled the dimples of her father, Morgan, confirming her lineage to him.

The grandmother wiped the child’s body with warm cotton cloths and water, then turned gently toward the reclining Violet and asked softly: "Do you want to name your daughter a specific name, Violet?"

Violet moved her head in denial on the rough pillow with cold features, void of any emotions, and said in a faint, faltering voice from the exhaustion of birth: "I do not want that... name her whatever you want and prefer, grandmother. The matter does not concern me."

The grandmother took a deep breath and said with remembrance and loyalty: "Your mother advised me that if the newborn was a boy, I should name him after your father, and if she was a beautiful girl, she wanted and wished for me to name her Julie... what do you think of this name?"

Violet closed her eyes in surrender and coldness, saying: "I already told you, grandmother... I do not mind any name. Name her Julie."

The grandmother lifted the small child high with a gushing love, and kissed her small, pure forehead, saying with an affectionate smile: "Julie... you beautiful little one, welcome to our world."

In the early, cold morning, Violet’s mother’s car tore its path quickly toward that remote village; she entered the house in haste and rushed toward her beautiful granddaughter to see her. The mother was completely shocked, her eyes widening in sharp astonishment because her small granddaughter, Julie, looked exactly and in detail like her twin daughters, Violet and Meredreth, in their childhood in an unbelievable way.

The mother carried her granddaughter with extreme caution and care to protect her, and she and her daughter Violet, who recovered quickly, departed the village. When they finally arrived at the city in complete secrecy, and as usual per the previously agreed-upon scenario, they headed secretly and sneaked to give the small Julie to Meredreth, who had, throughout those months, been playing the role of the pregnant and bloated woman with brilliance and mastery before everyone, placing large cloth pillows under her loose clothes to delude them of the pregnancy.

A short period later, a curse befell the family as the malignant, severe illness raided their mother’s body intensely, and she did not struggle for long until she surrendered her soul and died immediately. Violet and Meredreth grieved for her with a severe, lethal sorrow that constricted and broke hearts. In the midst of that gloomy funeral atmosphere, Meredreth collapsed and tried with bitter crying, wailing, and a despicable begging behind the walls to return Violet’s children to her because she could no longer tolerate the psychological burden, the lying, and the responsibility beyond her capacity. However, Violet confronted her with a stern, terrifying look like death, threatening her in cold blood that if she opened her mouth with a single word, she would go immediately to inform her husband, Stewart, of the complete truth and the betrayal. Meredreth retreated in genuine dread and terror, burning tears in her eyes, accepting her bitter reality that she had to raise and care for her sister Violet’s children against her own will and throughout her life.

As for the mysterious Violet, as soon as the funeral and burial ceremonies ended, she suddenly vanished completely from sight without introductions, leaving neither her body nor her trace any thread, and no creature in this world knew where she went or where she settled. Thomas began at that time searching for Violet in every corner of the earth with madness, obsession, and hysteria, utilizing all his men, influence, and money to reach her, but he never found any path or trace of her, as if the earth had truly split open and swallowed her entirely.

At that exact specified time, when the small infant Julie was only one month old and living with Meredreth, Robert was already a young, strong boy of twelve years of age.

His father, Thomas, took him suddenly in his armored black car with serious, harsh, and stiffened facial features, and headed with him toward that mysterious underground club. The young Robert, with his astonished, innocent childish features, did not understand anything going on around him, and his mind could not comprehend what this secret, strange place was, or why his father Thomas owned a place like this in the first place.

The bodyguard was advancing very slowly, pushing the wheelchair on which the disabled Thomas sat, while Robert walked beside him with hesitant, fearful steps, his eyes scanning the place.

Thomas turned his harsh head toward his young son, fixed his sharp, piercing, and terrifying gaze on him, and asked him in a firm, stern masculine voice: "Robert... listen to me well. Do you know what this mysterious place we are standing in right now is, exactly?"

The young Robert looked around himself with obvious apprehension and suspicion; the dim lights and dancing shadows on the walls stirred dread in his tender soul. He shook his head slowly, his fearful eyes shifting between the features of the place, then said with a childish innocence that had not yet been polluted by the days: "No, Father... I do not know what this place is, indeed."

Thomas leaned his torso backward against the backrest of his wheelchair with pride and arrogance, and pointed his hand in a wide, circular motion encompassing the halls of the club, saying in a powerful, raspy tone carrying the majesty of kings: "This place couched underground is my private empire that I built with blood, my son... and in the near future, it will become your new and exclusive empire."

The young Robert knitted his eyebrows in intense confusion, the lines of his small face constricting as he said with spontaneity and a lack of understanding of adult terminology: "Empire? I did not understand what you mean, Father."

Thomas bent his torso a little toward his son so that their levels neared, and looked into the depth of his eyes with stern features, sharp as a sword and an absolute confidence that accepted no discussion: "You simply will be the next mafia king, my son... and I am confident with all my influence and capacity that you will grow up to be the greatest and most powerful mafia king the streets of New York have ever known."