Devion received the message about the urgent family meeting early the following morning. He had just finished reading it when a commotion at the front gate drew his attention, and he had to go out with Mama B to check it. A delivery man, dressed in a neat uniform, was causing a scene, stubbornly demanding to see Miller personally. He was holding a large, long box and refused to hand his delivery over to any of the staff, insisting it was for her eyes only. Just as Devion's patience wore thin and he was about to order the man removed from the premises, Miller appeared, dressed in her jogging attire; she had heard the commotion too.
"What's going on?" she asked, her gaze shifting from the guards to the determined delivery man.
"Finally! Good morning, miss," the delivery man said, his face breaking into a wide smile.
Miller raised a brow at his sudden enthusiasm. The man retrieved a big bouquet of deep red roses from his box, along with several beautifully wrapped packs of luxury chocolates, and moved to present them directly to her but was physically blocked by two guards. Clicking his tongue in dissatisfaction, he placed the items carefully on the floor.
"For you, miss," he announced with a slight bow. "He hopes you enjoy it." With that final, cryptic message, the man turned and drove away, leaving a heavy silence behind.
Everyone's face was holding a different expression; Devion's face was dark with simmering dissatisfaction and disgust, his jaw tight as he contemplated the identity of the audacious "he." Mama B looked caught in a tight spot, her eyes darting between the gifts and her employer's stormy expression. Miller, however, seemed utterly unimpressed, her expression holding a deep lack of interest in the anonymous admirer.
"Do whatever you want with it," she said dismissively to Mama B, and without another glance, she continued on her way out for her morning jog.
The moment she was gone, Devion's controlled anger found a target. "Mama B," he commanded, his voice low and icy. "Find out who this 'he' is that dares to send such things to a married woman."
Mama B hurried forward and carefully examined the bouquet, searching for a card. She found a single piece of parchment tucked amongst the thorns. There was no name, only a handwritten message. She read it aloud for Devion. "Can't wait to be with you, my 'outstanding beauty.'"
Devion's expression turned fully stormy. A possessive, violent urge surged within him, a desire to find this daring idiot and break his neck. But with no leads, he knew such an outburst would head nowhere. The only consolation he had was the gleeful memory that Miller herself had been completely unmoved by the gesture.
---
That evening, Devion arrived at the Montgomery family estate just as other family members drove in. Among them was his father, Raphael Montgomery, the third of Madam Montgomery's four children. Devion hadn't seen the man since his mother's funeral fifteen years ago. Raphael was known as the most reserved and quiet of the Montgomerys, but those who knew better understood the immense danger that lay under that silent, composed skin. He was brilliantly skilled and dangerously capable, but since the death of his beloved wife, he had retired to the countryside to live as a simple schoolteacher. He had no relationship with his son since birth; to Raphael everyone except his late wife was insignificant, including the son she had left behind, and as expected the air between father and son had frozen.
Madam Montgomery was waiting outside to welcome everyone personally, flanked by the Ancient and her assistant, Zachary. "Welcome, Montgomerys," she began, her voice carrying a weight that silenced the casual greetings. "I am sorry for this sudden call, but we are facing a situation that concerns every living Montgomery." She deliberately built the suspense, pausing to let the gravity of her words sink in. "Let's all head inside for a more suitable atmosphere."
They followed her into the grand sitting room, where tea was served. After a brief, tense period of sipping, Madam Montgomery finally resumed. "As we have all been informed from birth about our oath to stop and prevent the pharmaceutical family across the ocean, the Kynastorms, from ever getting a family head, I have called you here today to tell you that our oath is on the brink of failing. And if it does, humanity will face its doom."
A heavy silence filled the room, broken only by the nervous clinking of a teacup. Finally, one of Devion's cousins, a sharp-eyed woman, spoke up. "According to what we learned, Collins Kynastorm killed all of his children years ago and then disappeared, so what is the threat now? Has he resurfaced?"
"No, he has not," the old lady replied. "But we discovered not all of his children died that year. One is still very much alive and is currently being targeted by the Kynastorm. The worst part is, this is the only information we have. We have no clue who is leading or who is leading them in this city, what identity they have taken, or their current location in this city. Worst of all, we have no idea which of Collins's children survived. That is why I have called you all to assign you the task of finding the Kynastorm in the city and this surviving child, using your best resources. Do we understand?"
A unified "Yes" echoed through the room from all but one person. As the chorus quieted, Raphael slowly retrieved a cigarette from his pocket. He turned to his brother, Javier, the family's second son. "Do you have a lighter?" he asked, his voice calm as if they were in a casual bar.
All eyes turned to him. "Does anyone have a lighter?" he asked the room at large.
No one replied, stunned by his audacity. After a tense moment, a young nephew hesitantly passed him a lighter. Raphael lit his cigarette, passed the lighter back, and then leaned back in his chair, blowing a stream of smoke into the air as if he wasn't part of the discussion.
"Raphael," Madam Montgomery called, her voice dangerously cold. "Do you understand what I said?"
"I did," he replied, not even looking at her. "But unfortunately, I am not interested."
The old lady slammed her hand on the table with a force that made many flinch. "I promise you, Raphael, if I do not see your contribution in this, I will disown you!"
He finally met her gaze, his own eyes cold and empty. "I couldn't ask for anything more." With that, he stood up and walked out of the room, leaving his mother seething with a mixture of fury and profound pain.
She knew, in the deepest part of her soul, that she deserved his hate. When she had given birth to him, it should have been to twins, a boy and a girl. But in a rare biological phenomenon, he had absorbed his twin sister in the womb. At the time, young and superstitious, she hadn't understood; she only saw that he had, in her mind, 'eaten' his sister. She had hated him for it from the moment he was born, treating him as if he were evil. She had even given him up for adoption twice. He had spent his childhood desperately trying to gain her approval, excelling beyond all his siblings, including his immediate younger sister, Sienn. Eventually, he stopped trying and grew irrevocably distant. He had married away from the family, and she only learned of it after Devion was born. Raphael had sent his infant son to her because his wife's health had deteriorated after the birth. He had stayed by her side, even doing the bidding of the mother he hated to raise money for her treatments. But she died anyway, and with her, the last of Raphael's connection to the Montgomery name died too. Madam Montgomery sighed deeply, a wave of regret washing over her. She wished, more than anything, to see her boy smile at her again like he had when he was a small, hopeful child, a smile she had always found disgusting at the time. Now, it felt like the most distant of dreams.
On the other hand, outside, Devion was about to enter his car when Raphael stopped by his side.
"Hello, son," he greeted, throwing his cigarette butt onto the gravel and crushing it under his heel.
"Hello, Father," Devion replied, his tone flat and devoid of warmth.
"I heard what happened to your love life and that you suddenly got married to a stranger for a project," Raphael stated with no exact emotion.
"What do you want?" Devion asked, cutting to the chase.
"Nothing," Raphael said with a faint, humorless smile. "Have a wonderful married life. I only hope you don't end up hurting a woman because of the old woman's wishes." He reached out and gave his son's shoulder a brief, almost impersonal pat. Then he turned and walked away toward his own car, a mediocre, dust-covered sedan that looked utterly out of place among the fleet of luxury vehicles.
Devion shook his head slightly, a gesture of weary resignation, and got into his own car, the door closing with a soft thud.