Chapter 82: Her Legacy

Chapter 82: Her Legacy –Laura– "Let’s go to the panic room," Damon said, standing up as he picked up the paper bags of baby clothes. He reached for Livana’s hand without even asking. Choco padded behind them, silent and alert. Sometimes I think Damon can read my sister’s mind better than anyone. "What’s that?" Livana asked softly, extending her hand. I placed the object into her palm, watching her fingers explore its shape. Her touch lingered on it—delicate, like she knew it was something important even before she asked. "Let those bastards go," she said firmly. Damon paused. "Why?" "Just let them go," she replied. "I don’t want more blood staining this house. We’ve had enough... right?" He grunted in agreement. That was all. No argument, no questions. We headed into the library. The curtains were open. Outside, I saw Logan engaged in close combat with someone. The sheer violence of it made my stomach twist. My breath caught—I hated seeing that. Livana moved to the sofa and pulled something from her coat. Another trinket. No... it was a pocket watch. This one was silver, glinting faintly under the chandelier light—and it had my name engraved on it. I watched her fingertips glide over it like she was reading Braille, delicate and slow. She opened it. Inside was a photo of us—me, her, and Mom. It was taken on my birthday. The last birthday I ever celebrated with her. My throat tightened. This wasn’t from the Pentagon. Why the hell would they deliver something like this in the dead of night? I picked up the envelope. There was a stamp I didn’t expect. The World Bank? But as I looked back down at the pocket watch in Livana’s hand, I noticed something even more startling. Her eyes were on it. Not just turned in its direction—but locked. Focused. Like she could see it. "Liva?" I asked, voice cracking slightly. "Mom had a lot more secrets than I thought," she murmured, her voice distant. "Read the letter." I reached for the envelope. It had the Braxton seal in bold red, with my name written in familiar script. My heart stopped. The handwriting... it was Mom’s. God. I almost forgot how it looked. Before I could even process it, there was a knock—a sharp, hurried one. The door opened and Logan stepped in. "We let them go, just as you said, Liva," he reported, but his voice carried a note of frustration. Then, his eyes darted toward Damon. "But seriously, why the hell did she order our security to stand down?" Damon only shrugged, calm as ever. But me? I didn’t care about any of that right now. I approached Logan quickly. "When did the letter arrive? How?" "Just this afternoon," he replied. "Before the delivery guys showed up. And then... the intruders came." I nodded slowly, my thoughts swirling. I could feel the tears pressing behind my eyes, but I blinked them back. Damien gently guided me to sit beside him. "Laura," Livana called, her voice quiet—but firm. "Read it." I knew. She was just as desperate to hear Mom’s voice as I was. I unfolded the letter with trembling fingers. My eyes blurred the moment I caught sight of the first word. Mom’s handwriting. "Laura!" Livana’s voice cut through. Sharper now. "Read it. Now." I flinched. Why was she getting impatient? Still, I obeyed. My voice cracked as I began to read: Dearest Laura, My sweet Laura—the one who brought spring in the middle of winter. My little sunshine. If this letter has reached you, then perhaps the time has come—for you, and for your sister—to finally know everything. I have entrusted the company to your sister, but I know her heart. She will pass it on to you. She must rule the underworld to keep the balance intact, but you... you are the light that must guide it. This pocket watch I’m giving you is no ordinary gift. It is a wager—a challenge placed before every organization in the country. The powerful ones. The hidden ones. We were developing the ability to manipulate surveillance systems for our usual underground operations, but in the process, my partner and I accidentally tapped into all the concealed networks. Every secret of this world’s shadowed organizations is encoded within that pocket watch. The Pentagon? I only shared a fraction of what I knew. What I gave them was a whisper compared to what you now hold. Everything you and Livana need... is inside that watch. But, my darling, you must remember one thing above all: never hand the company over to any of our relatives. If either of you were to die—or be assassinated—those organizations will not remain passive. The members of the Chess Board will rise, and they will not hesitate to tear everything apart. They will burn what we built to the ground. I know this leaves you with many questions. I built that company from nothing, and now... my dear half-sister Casey? She has been aligning herself with powerful forces to seize it. She knows about this device. I fear she may have listened in on more than I ever realized. So, trust no one—except each other. I’m sorry this comes to you as a tangled birthday gift. But it’s the only one I could give—for your safety, and your sister’s. These are the consequences of my choices, but I know your sister will uncover what’s needed to protect you both. I love you and Livana more than words could ever hold. My two angels. My radiant little princesses. Please... protect one another. With all my love and kisses, Mom I hiccuped mid-sob, my hand trembling as I lowered the letter. Then Livana stood up. But she miscalculated and nearly stumbled into the coffee table. Damon was quick—he caught her, steadying her with an arm around her waist. "What does she mean?" Livana asked, staring straight at me. Her eyes searched mine, voice trembling. "Laura?" I wiped at my eyes, sniffling. "The pocket watch has—" "Fuck," she cursed. I stared at her. That was the first time I’d heard her curse in years. "This is fucked up!" she snapped, her voice shaking. She was pacing now, her composure unraveling. Her calm, collected exterior—gone. She turned her back to us and inhaled sharply, trying to steady herself. "Love," Damon whispered gently, reaching for her arm. "Logan," she called out without turning around. "At your command, my queen," he replied instantly. "Call Sophia," Livana ordered, voice sharp. "Tell them to leave D6." I blinked. What the hell is D6? And why did that sound so... final? This day just turned into a whole new level of chaos. And all I wanted was my mom. –Livana– It’s getting on my nerves. The prototypes—each one a diversion, designed to mask the true location of the device that holds access to every network. The secrets. The layers upon layers of lies. Mother had prepared everything—every piece of it—like a queen setting up a final game of chess she would never get to finish. And now I’m left to play it. What should I do to protect my sister? Should I destroy this damn thing? But then again, what would the consequences be if I did? I don’t even know. That’s what terrifies me the most. The unknown. The weight of uncertainty pressing on my chest like a slow suffocation. I forced myself to calm down, smoothing over the sharp edges of the outburst I just had. That wasn’t me. I rarely lose control like that. But after everything—after all the assassins we’ve fended off, the attempts, the whispers, the corpses—it’s no wonder I’m starting to fray at the seams. That cursed pocket watch has drawn nothing but blood. If Mother had sent it to me directly, I would’ve put safeguards in place. I would’ve set traps, burned records, encrypted layers. Prepared something. But she didn’t. And now Laura’s caught in this too. Pregnant. Vulnerable. Caught in the center of a storm she doesn’t understand. I stepped out onto the balcony of our bedroom, needing air—needing distance. The wind was cold, brushing against my skin as if to remind me I was still alive. Below, I could see Caine’s security detail. They were cleaning up the mess left behind—the last wave of attackers. Blood on marble. A grotesque contrast to the serenity this place was supposed to offer. I wanted to stay here. I truly did. It’s beautiful. Quiet. Our supposed haven. But now, this mansion has soaked in blood. Because of this damn thing. This relic. This secret my mother held onto so tightly she took it to the grave... and still managed to pass it on. "Liva," Damon’s voice drifted behind me. I didn’t turn. "You were harsh on Laura," he said gently. "She’s pregnant, and very emotional." I didn’t answer right away. I knew I was harsh. Too harsh. But my thoughts were a tangled mess. My nerves raw. And this wasn’t just about secret organizations. It was about protecting Laura. From the world. From our bloodline. From the monsters that came with this inheritance. I inhaled deeply through my nose and turned to face him. My eyes dropped to the floor, ashamed. My husband read me too well. "Oh, baby..." he said softly, his arms circling my waist as he buried his face into my neck. "It must be so stressful." His lips brushed my skin. Gentle. Reassuring. He kissed my earlobe, and then his warm hand slid over my stomach in a slow, soothing gesture. "Let’s sleep," he murmured. "Just forget about it for a moment." "Mm," I hummed, eyes still lowered, thoughts still racing. Then came the question I didn’t want to answer. "So, what’s D6?" I rolled my eyes and shoved his chest lightly, irritated. "None of your fucking business," I snapped. He went quiet. "That’s... really harsh," he said after a pause, voice barely above a whisper. I shut my eyes and let out a long, slow sigh. I shouldn’t have snapped again. He didn’t deserve that. "I’m sorry," I said quietly. "Please... don’t ask any questions right now." He gave a small nod, lips pressed together. "Is this PMS?" he asked with a nervous smile, trying to lighten the mood. "Come on. Let’s go inside." He lifted me effortlessly into his arms and carried me to the bed. The familiar scent of him grounded me a little. Safe. Warm. He locked the balcony door behind us, pulled the curtains closed to block out the moonlight, and then returned to me. "Let me check your eyes," he said softly, gently lifting my chin. "I nearly forgot about the eyedrops." His fingers brushed my cheek, but I wasn’t looking at his eyes—I was watching his lips. The way they moved. Soft. Calm. Distracting. "Get me some medicine," I muttered. "My head is killing me." "Right away." He turned toward the drawers, and I watched him move. That body—toned, familiar, sculpted from years of silent discipline. My eyes traced the faint, scattered scars on his back. Old marks. New ones too. Were some of those from me? I pressed my fingers to my temple. Maybe Damon’s right. Maybe it is PMS. My head is pounding. And everything... Everything is irritating me. "Love," he called gently from across the room, holding a glass of water and a couple of tablets. "Here’s your medicine for the headache." I took a breath. I don’t know how much longer I can keep this all together. But I have to. For Laura. For the baby. For the legacy I never asked for—but must now carry.