Chapter 29: 27 - game unravel

Two days had passed since the incident at the orphanage . The image of the children playing amidst the wreckage, unaware of the danger they had narrowly escaped, haunted my thoughts. I had made sure that nothing like that would happen again, not as long as I breathed.

Today was another ordeal—a family dinner. My two aunts, three uncles, and their children were visiting. A charade of civility cloaked in the guise of familial affection. Each of them had their own agenda, their words as sharp as the knives they claimed not to carry.

I stood in the dining room, supervising the staff as they prepared the table. The room gleamed with opulence—a long mahogany table adorned with fine silverware, crystal glasses, and centerpieces of fresh roses. The menu for the evening was extravagant, as always:

- Appetizers:  Truffle-stuffed mushrooms, smoked salmon tartlets, and bruschetta topped with heirloom tomatoes and balsamic glaze.

- Soup:Lobster bisque with a hint of cognac.

- Main Course: Herb-crusted rack of lamb, seared duck breast with cherry reduction, and wild mushroom risotto.

- Sides: Garlic butter asparagus, roasted baby potatoes, and a medley of seasonal vegetables.

- Dessert: Tiramisu and a selection of macarons.

The sound of heels clicking against the marble floor announced their arrival. One by one, they filed in, each of them a reminder of my childhood—an endless cycle of scorn and neglect.

Aunt Camilla, my father's elder sister, was the first to arrive. Her sharp features and colder-than-ice demeanor mirrored her personality. She walked in, her jeweled necklace glittering under the chandelier.

"Lucifer," she said, her lips curling into a faint smile that didn’t reach her eyes. "Still as brooding as ever, I see."

"Aunt Camilla," I replied, my voice smooth. "I see you haven't lost your charm."

She arched a brow but said nothing, her gaze scanning the room with disdain.

Next was Aunt Vivian , the younger sister. She had a softer exterior but was equally venomous. Her husband, Uncle Richard , followed closely, his heavy build and booming voice making his presence known.

"Ah, Lucifer," he said, clapping me on the shoulder. "Still playing the lone wolf?"

"I find it preferable to running with a pack of snakes," I said, my tone polite but pointed.

Uncle Victor and Uncle Thomas , my father’s elder brothers, arrived together, both of them stiff and formal. Their children trailed behind them, their fake smiles plastered on for show.

Finally, Uncle Sanchez made his entrance. The younger brother of my father and the root of the recent attack. He was slim and sharp-featured, his eyes always calculating. He walked in like he owned the place, his smirk as irritating as ever.

“Lucifer,” he said, his tone overly friendly. “How gracious of you to host us all.”

“Sanchez,” I said, matching his smirk. “It’s always a pleasure to see you, though I do wonder if you’ve left your unfinished business behind this time.”

His smile faltered for a moment, but he quickly recovered. “Business is never unfinished, dear nephew. You should know that.”

The tension in the room was palpable as we all took our seats. The conversations started cordially enough, but it didn’t take long for the usual barbs to surface.

“You’ve certainly done well for yourself, Lucifer,” Aunt Vivian said, her voice dripping with false praise. “Though, I do wonder how you manage all this without any proper guidance.”

I leaned back in my chair, my expression calm. “Proper guidance? Ah, you mean like the kind my father provided?”

The room fell silent for a moment, the air heavy with unspoken truths.

Sanchez chuckled softly, breaking the silence. “Still harboring grudges, are we? Let bygones be bygones, Lucifer. After all, we’re family.”

I met his gaze, my smile razor-sharp. “Family, Sanchez? Is that what you call sending men to an orphanage with guns? Quite the familial gesture.”

His eyes darkened, but he kept his composure. “I don’t know what you’re insinuating, but I assure you, I had nothing to do with that.”

“Of course not,” I said, my tone dripping with sarcasm. “Just like you had nothing to do with the missing funds from the last project. It’s always a coincidence with you, isn’t it?”

The table fell silent again, the weight of my words hanging in the air. Camilla cleared her throat, attempting to change the subject.

“Lucifer, you really should consider settling down,” she said. “A man of your stature needs a proper companion.”

I smirked. “Oh, don’t worry about me, Aunt Camilla. I’m well taken care of.”

Her eyes narrowed slightly, but she said nothing.

The rest of the evening was a careful dance of veiled insults and forced smiles. By the time dessert was served, I was counting down the minutes until they left.

As they finally rose to leave, Sanchez lingered behind, his smirk returning. “You should be careful, Lucifer,” he said quietly. “Not all games end in your favor.”

I stepped closer, my voice low and dangerous. “And you should remember, Sanchez—those who play with fire often get burned.”

He held my gaze for a moment before walking away, leaving me alone in the now-empty dining room.

I sighed, running a hand through my hair.  one thing was certain—I would win. I always did.

The study was quiet, illuminated only by the dim glow of a desk lamp. The scent of aged leather and old books filled the room as I leaned back in my chair, a glass of whiskey swirling in my hand. My thoughts churned as I considered the irony of my situation.

My family—the supposed Di Carlo dynasty, a symbol of power and unity—had never been more fractured. It was laughable that we were under one roof, gathered like a dysfunctional circus in the name of civility. I could have killed them all for their betrayals and insults, but the Di Carlo name held weight, and with that weight came responsibilities I couldn't ignore.

I had called them here, despite avoiding them for years. Not out of sentimentality, but strategy. Someone wanted to see the Di Carlo family together.  The recent attacks, the summoning of demons, the havoc—it all pointed to someone deliberately orchestrating chaos. And now, with my family gathered in one place, it would be easier to find the traitor hiding among us.

I sipped my whiskey, the warmth doing little to quell the chill of suspicion running through me. Sanchez, with his smug demeanor, was the obvious suspect. But the truth was rarely that simple. The Di Carlo palace was vast, sprawling with secrets and shadows. It wouldn’t be long before someone slipped up.

The Next Morning ...

The first rays of sunlight filtered through the heavy velvet curtains of the palace. I was already up, pacing the grand hall. The staff moved quietly, their footsteps muffled by the Persian rugs. Breakfast was being prepared, the aroma of freshly brewed coffee and baked bread wafting through the air.

The dining room was set for a grand breakfast. The long table was laden with an array of dishes:

- Freshly baked croissants and pastries.

- Omelets made to order, with a variety of fillings.

- Smoked salmon, capers, and cream cheese.

- Pancakes with maple syrup and fresh berries.

- A selection of cheeses, cold cuts, and seasonal fruits.

- Coffee, tea, and freshly squeezed orange juice.

The family trickled in one by one. Camilla arrived first, impeccably dressed as always. She gave me a curt nod before seating herself at the far end of the table. Vivian followed, her steps measured, her eyes scanning the room like a hawk. Richard entered next, already complaining about the morning chill despite the blazing fireplace.

Sanchez was the last to arrive, his entrance as theatrical as always. He strolled in, his gaze sweeping over the room before settling on me. “Good morning, nephew,” he said with a smirk.

“Morning,” I replied curtly, taking my seat at the head of the table.

As we ate, the conversation was laced with passive aggression and veiled insults.

“Lucifer,” Camilla began, her tone condescending. “The palace looks... well-maintained. I suppose you’ve managed to keep it in order despite your busy schedule?”

I smiled thinly. “I do what I can, Aunt Camilla. Unlike some, I believe in maintaining what’s mine.”

Her lips tightened, but she said nothing.

Sanchez leaned back in his chair, his smirk growing wider. “You seem tense, Lucifer. Is there something on your mind?”

I met his gaze, my expression cold. “Nothing a good breakfast can’t fix. Though I do wonder, Sanchez, how your... business ventures are faring these days?”

His smirk faltered for a fraction of a second before he recovered. “Thriving, as always. You know me—I have a way of making things work.”

“Indeed,” I said, my voice sharp. “You’ve always been resourceful. Almost too resourceful.”

The room fell silent for a moment, the weight of my words hanging in the air.

After breakfast, I decided to take a walk through the palace grounds. The air was crisp, the gardens pristine, but something felt off. The staff seemed uneasy, their movements hurried. I stopped one of the maids, a young woman with wide eyes and trembling hands.

“Is something wrong?” I asked, my tone firm but not unkind.

She hesitated, then whispered, “There have been... noises, sir. In the east wing. Strange noises.”

“Strange how?”

“Whispers,” she said, her voice barely audible. “And... footsteps, but no one’s there.”

I nodded, dismissing her. The east wing had been closed off for years, but it seemed I would have to investigate.

As I walked through the palace, I noticed other signs of unease. Doors slightly ajar that should have been locked. Shadows that seemed to move on their own. A faint smell of sulfur lingering in the air.

I found Sanchez in the library, casually flipping through a book. He looked up as I entered, his expression unreadable.

“Exploring the palace?” I asked, my tone light but edged with suspicion.

“Just reminiscing,” he replied. “This place holds so many memories, don’t you think?”

“Some better forgotten,” I said, stepping closer. “Tell me, Sanchez, do you ever feel like the past has a way of catching up to you?”

He chuckled. “Only if you’ve done something worth regretting.”

I smiled coldly. “Oh, I’m sure you’ve done plenty.”

He met my gaze, his smirk unwavering. “Haven’t we all?”

The weight of paperwork surrounded me in my study. The dim lighting and the faint crackling of the fireplace created an ambiance of isolation—a perfect setting for my thoughts to unravel . The summoning of a demon, the orchestrated chaos—it all pointed to someone within these walls. But who?

A sharp knock interrupted my thoughts. The sound was deliberate, precise, and I immediately knew who it was.

“Enter,” I said, my voice echoing in the silence.

The double doors creaked open, and in walked my aunts—Camilla and Vivian. Their presence filled the room with an air of ostentation, their movements calculated, their smiles sharp as blades.

“Lucifer,” Camilla began, her tone sickly sweet. “We thought we’d find you here. Always working, always so... dedicated.”

Vivian, ever the shadow to her sister, nodded in agreement. “But dedication isn’t everything, dear nephew. There are other... responsibilities to consider.”

I leaned back in my chair, folding my arms. “And what, pray tell, brings you to my study this late?”

Camilla wasted no time. “Your future, of course. It’s time you considered marriage.”

I raised an eyebrow, masking my irritation. “Marriage?”

“Yes,” Vivian chimed in. “It’s high time you settle down. The Di Carlo legacy demands it. We’ve even shortlisted a few suitable candidates for you.”

Camilla produced a list, sliding it across the desk with a flourish. “All from influential families. The best of the best.”

I didn’t even glance at the paper. Instead, I leaned forward, resting my elbows on the desk. “I appreciate your concern, but I already have someone in my life.”

Both women froze for a moment, their expressions shifting to poorly concealed surprise.

“Oh?” Camilla recovered quickly. “And who might this lucky lady be?”

I smirked, knowing they would never recognize her true identity. My little moon, always elusive, always careful to keep her duality intact. To them, she might appear as Amara Ashford—a name and face they might have seen in passing. But La Muerte? They wouldn’t dare connect the dots.

“She prefers her privacy,” I said smoothly. “But rest assured, she’s everything I need—and more.”

Camilla’s lips thinned, her irritation barely hidden. “Privacy? In our world, Lucifer, privacy is a luxury few can afford. Are you certain she’s... suitable for the Di Carlo name?”

I chuckled darkly, leaning back once more. “She’s more than suitable. In fact, she’s the only one I trust.”

Vivian exchanged a glance with her sister, her unease clear. “Still, you should consider the candidates we’ve suggested. It’s important to maintain alliances.”

“Enough,” I said, my tone cold. “I won’t entertain this any further. If that’s all, you’re dismissed.”

Camilla bristled but stood, smoothing her dress as she did. “Very well. But remember, Lucifer, family comes first.”

“Of course,” I said, my voice laced with sarcasm. “How could I forget?”

They left, their whispers echoing down the hall.

As the doors closed behind them, I sat in the suffocating quiet of my study. Camilla’s insistence, her urgency to see me married—it all felt off. She was always calculating, always scheming. But why now?

I glanced at the list she had left behind. Names and photos of women from wealthy families stared back at me. Alliances, power plays—this was nothing more than a game to them. I pushed the paper aside, irritation bubbling beneath the surface.

My thoughts drifted back to the palace. Someone  had summoned the demon, had set these events in motion. The east wing’s strange occurrences, the sulfuric stench that lingered in the air, the hushed whispers of the staff—it all pointed to treachery. But the culprit remained elusive.

I stood, walking to the window. The sprawling gardens below were shrouded in darkness, the moonlight casting eerie shadows on the grounds. Somewhere within these walls, a traitor lurked.

And I would find them.

The fire crackled behind me as I poured another glass of whiskey.

Hours later, I stepped into the corridor, my footsteps echoing in the stillness. The palace felt alive, not with warmth, but with an undercurrent of malice. As I passed the east wing, I caught a glimpse of movement—a shadow slipping into the darkness.

“Who’s there?” I called out, my voice firm.

Silence.

I strode forward, my senses heightened. The air was thick, the faint scent of sulfur lingering once more. I opened the nearest door, finding nothing but an empty room. Yet, the feeling of being watched persisted.