Children of Ambition (Children of Vice 2)

My feet hurt like hell.

My hair felt disgusting.

I just wanted to soak in hot bath for a while.

But thanks to the pack of alpha males around me, of course I couldn’t do what I wanted to. And to make matters worse, when I stepped into the living room, not only was Helen there seated by the piano, but Nari, Sedric, and Darcy were all seated around the room. Darcy was lying on the couch, Sedric was on the floor in front of it, while Nari was in the corner on the phone.

The icing on this morning’s shit cake was of course the news broadcast they were watching.

“Thank you, Randel. Residents here are still reeling from yesterday’s attempted bank robbery at Wilson International Bank, which left one teenager paralyzed from the waist down. The police are saying the gunmen were disgruntled employees of Wilson Bank. Randel, our sources can now confirm two of those gunmen are confirmed dead and the third is in custody. We also received breaking news that one of the hostages was none other than twenty-nine-year-old, Prince Gabriel Honoré Déllacqua III, the Hereditary Prince of Monaco, next line for the Monacan throne. Eye witnesses inside say his quick thinking was the only reason why there wasn’t any more casualties. And he stood in between the gunmen and Donatella Callahan, only daughter of former governor Melody Callahan and business mogul Liam Callahan. This incident, on top of this morning’s accident on 93 Kingsway North, and last month’s church bombing has citizens wondering if Chicago is reverting back to its violent past. CDN News have been pressing the commissioner—”

“A little turbulence in the air and everyone goes running to the commissioner,” I said, turning off the television and getting all of their attention.

“That’s what commissioners are for,” Helen said, walking over to me and hugging me tightly. “Are you okay?”

“You mean before or after you choke me to death?” I said, trying to push her off. She was like a damn octopus.

“You’re hurt!” she said, lifting my hair.

“I’m fine. If anything, Prince Gabriel is the wounded one,” I said, and just like that she turned to him.

“We prefer him that way,” Wyatt said, moving to sit on the arm of the couch, next to Darcy who sat up, and Sedric who glared at him.

“What happens if you kill a prince? Does that put you at war with the country?” Sedric asked looking up at Darcy, who shrugged, looking to Ethan.

“Can we wait till after the playoffs before we start a war?”

“Ignore them,” Helen said to Gabriel, handing him glass of bourbon. Her annoying good nature disrupted the ominous atmosphere everyone else seemed so keen to put on. However, Gabriel seemed more doubtful of her than the rest of us, taking the glass but not drinking it yet.

“O’Phelan, can your people call the doctor?” Ivy said, walking in and standing beside Ethan near the door. “It seems like Wyatt’s off the clock again.”

“Are you going to talk or not?” Wyatt asked, ignoring the rest of us, and I’d never seen him so tense. Ethan moved to sit in a chair by the fireplace, Ivy following and then sitting beside him.

Gabriel’s gray eyes looked at every one of them, before turning to me. “I’m sort of jealous… Your family loves you quite dearly.”

Lifting the glass, he threw back the brown liquid, before bringing the glass back down. He stared at it. “Unfortunately, my family isn’t the same. Like I told you, the nature of the monarchy is the willingness to kill your family if need be.”

“Are you getting to the point?” Wyatt asked, cleaning his ear with his pinky. I was getting ready to beat the shit out of him.

“You want answers; you’re going have to shut up and listen to my fucking story,” Gabriel stated back, moving to the bar and pouring another glass. “Where was I?”

“Killing family,” Ivy said eagerly, sitting up on the chair and eating nuts from a bowl as though this was some sort of show.

“Right,” Gabriel nodded, turning back to us. “My father, Davet-Jacques Florestan Déllacqua I, was one of the most aggressive, zealous, underhanded, and resourceful sovereigns Monaco had ever seen. Under him, the country grew rapidly. He tricked, stole, and took land right under France’s nose. When it came to ruling, he had no faults. It was his personal life which caused all the scandal. Like many other sovereigns, he enjoyed women—as many of them as he could have. He was not fond of the institution of marriage.

“However, under the Monacan charter, the heir to the throne can never be a bastard. Already in his late forties, pressure mounted for him to marry; to either marry one of the women who had already given him a child or marry someone new and produce an heir. At that time, two of his mistresses were pregnant. One, the youngest daughters of the then prime minster, and the other, the daughter of the palace cook. He chose the daughter of a cook out of his hatred for the prime minster, and thus my mother Adésme Benoîte became the Princess Consort and Her Serene Highness of Monaco. Six months later, both I and my half-brother, Prince Xavier, were born. I was born a day after him, but was the official heir to the throne.”

“Wait, why is he a prince if he’s bastard?” Sedric questioned, sitting up on the couch and scratching the side of neck.

“Because,” Gabriel answered, sitting on the piano stool, “his mother and grandfather had my mother poisoned daily. The poison making her slowly lose her mind, their goal to make my father not simply divorce her, but have the pope declare the marriage was never valid to begin with.”

“Thus, making you a bastard, too,” I whispered, and he looked up to me, nodding.

“My father suspected her father was somehow behind it, however, Sylvia is very good at pretending to be innocent. And so, the fool believed there was no possible way someone as kindhearted as her could do such a thing. The doctors tried to find a cure for my mother. They changed everything; her clothes, jewels, bedding, everything was stripped and redone but she still got worse. They didn’t realize the poison wasn’t spread by a thing but a person…my very own father. They had poisoned the Jewel of Le Coeur Battant, which all sovereigns wear around their necks, and each time he went to see her or come around her he poisoned her. The only reason he didn’t get sick was because they also gave him the antidote. On my sixth birthday, my mother threw herself off the west palace balcony. A year later my father married Sylvia, making her the new Princess Consort and Her Serene Highness of Monaco… Thereby making her childr

en, my step-siblings, legitimate children and in line for the throne. So even though Xavier is older than me by a day, I remain the heir, as my mother was the first wife. For him to take the throne, I must either abdicate or die.”

“You said you take the throne on your thirtieth birthday? Why thirtieth? What about your father?” I asked him, not understanding.