"But she's my Mommy…"
Shay's said it again—louder and more forceful.
"You can't take her away from me."
The words cracked through the lawn like a gunshot.
Conversations died mid-sentence. Wine glasses hovered halfway to lips. Laughter collapsed into silence.
Every head turned. First to the child. Then to Ares, who held her against his chest.
Leonard Norse's fifty-third birthday wasn't just a party—it was a quiet battlefield.
Half the city's power players were there.
High-ranking military officers. The old rich. The nouveau riche. Politicians with shark smiles and daughters dressed like investments. Every family hoping to weave themselves into the Norse or Zuvel bloodlines through marriage, alliance, or leverage.
Everyone knew the truth.
The Norses and the Zuvels weren't just friends.
They were a dynasty stitched together by decades of favors, contracts, and marriage alliances.
Ares' uncle had married Leonard's sister.
Power marrying power.
