Chapter 72 FIRST HIT ON TARGET
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AUTHOR’S POV
The grand hall was draped in golden chandeliers, the dim lighting casting a soft glow over the elegantly dressed guests.
A hum of conversation filled the air, but it slowly began to die down as Adeline stepped toward the center, microphone in hand.
Her heels clicked against the marble floor with purpose, yet her grip tightened subtly around her brother Vladimir’s arm.
He stood beside her, his expression composed, but she could feel the tension in him—the slight hesitation beneath his otherwise fearless exterior.
Adeline inhaled deeply, scanning the faces before her. Bianca—her mother, the witch who had tainted their family name.
Leonardo—the man her mother had betrayed them with. Isabella, Francesco, Christian, Aurora, Rose, Braxton, Aaron, Kiara, Angelina—the woman Adeline had pitied, clueless to the fact that her own husband had been sleeping with Bianca.
Alessandra Morelli—the matriarch of the Morelli family, the mother of Luciano and Leonardo, sat with an unreadable expression.
A slow smile curled Adeline’s lips as she raised the microphone to her lips.
“Good evening,” she said smoothly, her voice carrying through the hall with practiced ease.
“I have something important to announce.”
A hush fell over the room, but Leonardo—as if anticipating what was coming—stood abruptly. His sharp glare cut through the space between them, his face rigid with barely restrained anger.
Adeline met his glare with a calm, knowing smile.
“After my father, Riccardo Lanstov, passed away,” she began, her voice steady, “many hearts died with him. He was a man of honor, a man of respect.” She paused, letting the weight of her words settle over the crowd.
Murmurs of agreement rippled through the hall.
She let her gaze linger on the faces before her before continuing,
“After his death, Vladimir and I were not mature enough to handle his empire. We struggled—both with our loss and with the weight of responsibilities we weren’t prepared for. But throughout it all, there was one man who took charge of my father’s empire, who held it in his hands as if it were his own.”
A calculated pause.
“Luciano Morelli.”
A sharp intake of breath spread through the hall like wildfire. Shocked whispers erupted around the room.
Even Luciano’s family—Alessandra, Isabella, Francesco—exchanged uneasy glances. But Luciano himself did not react.
His eyes remained fixed on Adeline, his fists clenched so tightly at his sides that his knuckles turned white.
He wasn’t angered by the accusation itself—he didn’t care what nonsense she spewed about him.
But he wanted to know who had fed her these ideas.
Adeline tilted her head slightly, her voice soft yet deliberate.
“For years, he protected it. But maybe he wanted to own it too.”
The room fell into stunned silence.
Luciano’s jaw tensed, but he said nothing.
“Now that my eyes are open,” Sloane continued,
“I see what’s right and what’s wrong. I see who truly has our best interests at heart. And because of that, I’ve decided…”
She exhaled, a slow smirk forming.
“To take back what’s mine.”
The tension in the room was suffocating. Then, a voice rang out.
“You cannot become the heir,” a man from the crowd spoke up.
“You are neither a man nor married.”
Adeline’s lips twitched upward in amusement. She let the words hang in the air before replying with a cool smile.
“I won’t be sitting on the seat,” she said.
Another pause.
“But Vladimir will.”
A gasp rippled through the crowd. All eyes turned to Vladimir, who stood tall, his expression unreadable.
“And,” adeline continued, lifting her chin,
“to ensure he has someone trustworthy by his side, someone who can take care of him…” She allowed her gaze to sweep over the room before landing back on Leonardo and Luciano. A flicker of something dark, something victorious, flashed in her eyes.
“Someone who can take care of me,” she added, her voice softer now, teasing.
A beat.
“I want you all to meet… Charles Claude.”
The moment his name left her lips, the tension in the room snapped.
A collective murmur of disbelief spread through the crowd, but none of it compared to Luciano’s reaction.
His entire body went rigid, his breathing shallow.
His eyes darkened with an unmistakable rage as he watched the man—his long-time rival—appear from nowhere, stepping into the center with a slow, calculated stride.
Charles Claude.
The name alone sent a ripple of unease through the hall.
Dressed in a tailored black suit, Charles walked toward adeline, his movements smooth, controlled—like a predator taking its time before the kill.
A smirk played at his lips as he met Luciano’s deadly gaze head-on, as if relishing the fury burning behind those dark eyes.
Luciano’s fists clenched at his sides.
His entire body was on edge, his blood thrumming with barely restrained anger.
Adeline, standing between her brother and her chosen ally, turned her gaze toward Luciano one last time.
A challenge in her eyes.
And in that moment, Luciano knew—this was war.