Chapter 87: Kill the Baby!!
"She’s pregnant! Pregnant!"
Namira snapped, her voice loud enough to echo violently against the walls. Her body visibly shook with rage as she spoke to the two men standing in front of her. Their expressions were mostly nonchalant, bordering on indifferent—but for Namira, it was obvious that she was only just getting started.
"Do you know what this means? Do either of you?" she demanded, her tone clearly pissed off.
Dante was already a threat, but at least he had been a manageable one. Without any children, getting rid of him meant getting rid of all their problems. Namira pointed this out sharply, still clearly furious at having found out so late.
"We are all competitors. What’s one more?" Furie asked with a casual shrug of his shoulders.
Warren couldn’t help but nod his head in agreement, unable to understand why Namira was making a mountain out of a molehill.
"Don’t you get it?" Namira snapped, even more incensed than before when it became obvious that she was the only one taking the matter seriously.
"Dante isn’t as simple as he looks! Yes, the bulk of the shares is in our hands, but have you forgotten the move he played when he was twenty-one?"
Her eyes burned as she looked between the two men.
"He is dangerous! How can a cold and lifeless person like that suddenly fall in love? I don’t believe it!" she snapped, her anger spilling over as she did her best to force them to see things from her point of view.
"...and suddenly a baby?" Her lips curled in disgust. "He definitely has an agenda!"
Her tone made it clear she was beyond convinced of what she was saying.
For a while, Furie and Warren didn’t speak. It was almost as if they were turning the situation over in their minds, silently weighing their options and trying to decide the best stance to take.
Finally, Namira spoke again.
"Just in case," she said coldly, "isn’t it better to get rid of the baby? Even if it’s only to give him more things to focus on."
She wasn’t the least bit surprised when the other two slowly nodded their heads, their expressions shifting just enough to show agreement.
Even if they didn’t fully share her concerns, Namira knew they wouldn’t go against her plan—as long as it was to Dante’s detriment.
After what the three of them had collectively done to his parents, as long as Dante was alive, he was always going to be a pain in their neck.
Since the conversation they were having in her home was over, Furie and Warren began to say their goodbyes. They moved slowly, already thinking of returning to their own villas—or wherever else they wished to go.
The plan to ensure that the baby was killed had been agreed upon quickly.
Poison.
Even if the servant was caught, it would be someone disposable—nothing that couldn’t be taken care of.
Warren and Furie left, and soon Namira was alone in her home. Her husband was still at work, and her sons were with him.
The maids and servants continued quietly with their duties while Namira stood by the window on the topmost floor. She leaned against the wall, staring out over the beautiful grounds of the mansion she lived in.
What she had built was delicate.
And she had no intention of watching it crash down around her.
Not after all the sacrifices she had made.
"It’s not my fault that your father wasn’t willing to share," she muttered under her breath, thinking of Dante’s father—the man they had spoken to, the man who had refused them.
He had decided to give them nothing but scraps.
"This is a big family," she continued quietly, her voice thick with resentment. "Yet you wanted just one son to inherit it all."
Her anger grew the more she replayed those memories, fully aware that she had been the one to come up with a viable solution.
She, Furie, and Warren were the true children of their father.
Dante’s father had simply been the son of a mistress.
"Yes, he built up Bellini Corp from scratch," she said out loud, moving closer to the window and gripping the rail tightly. "But our father started it."
She stared up at the sky, her fingers tightening until her knuckles whitened.
"...the truth is that as long as Dante is alive, I can never have a moment of rest," she said aloud, unwilling to leave any stone unturned—no matter how harmless that stone might appear.
Her eyes fluttered closed, yet she remained standing by the window for a very long time. Even when her legs began to ache, she didn’t move, her expression locked in deep thought.
Killing an unborn child was the easiest thing in the world—something she wasn’t bothered by in the slightest.
But killing Dante was different.
She had tried over and over again, and not once had she succeeded.
So many failures that she had begun to wonder if she had a traitor among her people.
Yet beyond all that, she couldn’t fathom why Dante had never tried to kill her—or Furie—or Warren.
Not once had he attempted to harm them.
The realization unsettled her more than any assassination attempt ever could.
It scared her.
It’s the silence that’s worrying, she thought. If he had made plans and they had failed, at least she would know where she stood.
Maybe he forgave...
The thought barely formed before she crushed it.
Anyone might forgive—but never Dante.
How could she even think that of a boy who hadn’t shed a single tear at his parents’ funeral?
Instead, he had simply stood there, staring at all three of them. He hadn’t spared a single glance at the funeral portraits or the caskets.
Silent as a ghost.
He hadn’t moved a muscle or shown even the slightest hint of grief. Dressed in a dark suit, with nothing but cold eyes, he stared at them in complete and utter silence.
He stood that way until his parents were buried.
Then he left.
Not once sparing a glance at the parents who lay buried beneath the ground.
