Chapter 56 William

Chapter 56 William
I didn’t mean to come off cold. But being the head of the family, it’s hard to switch off my boss persona, even for a moment. Old habits cling like armor.

Across the room, Ivy stands frozen—like a deer caught in headlights—yet beneath that initial shock, something fierce flickers in her eyes. Determination.

And seeing that… it fills me with something warm. Relief. Pride.

She isn’t scared of my demeanor.
More importantly—she isn’t scared of me.

A weight eases off my shoulders, loosening muscles I didn’t know were tense. But almost immediately, that relief sours into annoyance as Rose inserts herself. She just had to chime in.

My brothers and I never liked that our parents took her in. We agreed long ago that no one would ever replace Ivy. Yet that is exactly what Rose is.

A replacement.

The room falls silent. Everyone stares at me in slack-jawed shock—everyone except Ivy. She simply tilts her head, a sly smirk pulling at her lips. She knows exactly what Rose is doing and isn’t falling for it.

Our father had called earlier, explaining everything that happened with Ivy being poisoned. Even he sounded shaken. Ivy herself suspects Rose is behind it—but she refuses to make accusations without proof. She wants truth, not vengeance. 

I admire that.

She isn’t being a spoiled brat trying to get rid of someone she dislikes.
She’s conducting a full assessment, withholding judgment until the facts align.

It’s smart.
It’s exactly what a true member of this family would do.

In this moment, watching Ivy stand tall in the storm without flinching, I realize something undeniable:
She truly is our mafia princess.

When Father hung up, I messaged my assistant immediately—no hesitation, no second thoughts. The deal needed finishing and I needed to be on the next flight out. Every minute I wasn’t with Ivy after hearing she’d been targeted clawed at my nerves like a sickness. 

I turn my gaze to Rose. Her eyes are still wide, her jaw hanging open at my question.

“Well?” I ask, letting my stare sharpen to a blade aimed directly at her.

She blinks hard, trying to gather herself. Tears pool at the corners of her eyes as she looks at me with a trembling, pitiful expression.

“Brother, I only… I only wanted to make sure no one challenges you. You are the head of our family, so I wished to voice my concern for you,” she murmurs, shrinking back into her seat.

A humorless scoff escapes me before I can stop it.

“Who asked for your concern? If I can’t handle a little pushback, then I would be a failure to this family—and to our business.”

She opens her mouth, maybe to argue or maybe to plead, but she wisely shuts it again. Good. Silence suits her far better.

I force my expression to soften as I turn my attention to Ivy. She gives me a gentle smile—small, but enough to warm the edges of my otherwise harsh world. Yet out of the corner of my eye, Luca and Edward still look tense. Edward’s worry I understand—he has always been protective. But Luca?

His concern comes with that comment still hooking into my thoughts:
She is perfect.

Perfect.

The word burns like acid. I know they grew up together. My brothers and I are significantly older than Ivy, and when she lived here, all of us were already pulled into our own worlds. Father and I traveled constantly while he trained me to take his place. My other brothers studied abroad, pursuing their own ambitions. That left Ivy mostly with Mother… and, regrettably, with Luca.

A hot surge of jealousy coils in my stomach. Protective. Territorial. 

She has finally come to her senses and cancelled her engagement. I was so excited when my father told me this but now I have to worry about another man coming into her life. 

He will not take my little sister away from me.
I won’t allow it.

I will use every trick, every ounce of authority, every resource at my disposal to keep my baby sister exactly where she belongs—safe, protected, and undeniably ours.

“Ivy, come sit and have breakfast,” I say, my voice softening automatically for her in a way it never does for anyone else.

She rises gracefully and walks toward the empty seat beside me. I stand, pull the chair out for her, and she settles into it before lifting her eyes to mine.

“Thank you, brother,” she says, her tone light and warm, a gentle smile lifting her whole face.

I can’t stop the answering smile that forms on my own. It’s instinctive—effortless.

With a small wave of my hand, I signal the servants to start bringing out breakfast. Silver platters appear one by one, steam curling into the air as the lids are lifted. I had already spoken with Zeus late last night, making sure we chose the right foods for Ivy after the ordeal she went through. Light dishes, gentle on the stomach. Nothing too heavy.

Edward complained, of course—said Ivy loved a hearty breakfast and would sulk without one. But I shut that down quickly.

“She just survived being poisoned,” I reminded him sharply. “We do what’s best for her health, not what’s easiest.”

That ended the argument. Edward can be loud, but even he knows when to stand down—especially when it concerns Ivy.

She smooths her napkin on her lap, unaware of the quiet storm of protectiveness swirling around the table. Beside me, she looks small for a moment, fragile even—but only physically. Her spirit has never been delicate.

And as the servants continue laying out bowls of fresh fruit, warm breads, and broths, I find myself watching her with a soft vigilance.

Safe. Here.
Exactly where she should be.

Ivy looks over the breakfast spread, and immediately her face twists into a dramatic frown. She turns to Father with pure betrayal in her eyes.

“Where are my beans? Where’s the bacon? Or sausage?” she demands, frantic—as if the absence of greasy food is somehow a personal attack. Her voice rises like she’s announcing the end of the world.

Edward snorts before he can stop himself, laughter slipping out.

“Told you so,” he says under his breath, still chuckling.

I cut my eyes toward him in a sharp glare. His laughter sputters, then dies completely, his mouth snapping shut as if he physically swallowed the sound.

Meanwhile, Ivy is still staring mournfully at the fruit bowls and delicate broths like they’ve committed a personal offense against her entire bloodline. Her lower lip even juts out a little, the picture of wounded dignity.

And I can’t help it—watching her sulk over missing beans and bacon of all things—my chest warms.

My little baby sister is so unbelievably cute.

For someone who faced poisoning with calm calculation, the lack of greasy breakfast foods is apparently where she draws the line. The contrast almost makes me laugh. Almost. Instead, I just observe her, a protective instinct curling around me like a shield.

She has no idea how hard it is not to scoop her up, sit her on my lap, and feed her like she’s five.