POV: NaelI woke up with a heavy feeling in my chest, something between boredom and restlessness. I didn't want to leave the house, but dinner at the White estate was inevitable. Not my choice. I didn't want to be there, but everyone would go, and my instincts told me I needed to be present. It had been months since I'd disappeared from everyone's sight. To most, I was just a shadow, a forgotten rumor. Maybe they thought I was dead. Sometimes, it seemed easier to let them believe that.
"Pathetic."
That was the only word that came to mind as I stared at my reflection in the mirror. The baggy clothes, the oversized sweater, the beanie hiding my hair, and the grotesque glasses transformed me into someone else. A nerd. An ordinary, invisible person. But I knew it was just a disguise. A game to try to escape who I really was.
I ran my fingers over the sweater's fabric and saw my hands. Old cuts and scars told stories no one would ever hear. It was strange how they still reminded me of everything, even when I tried to ignore them. As I looked closer, I realized how tired I was of hiding who I am. It wasn't physical; it was an exhaustion that came from within—a silent battle with myself.
Still, I went on with life, as the manual dictated. School, home, routine. I was the "good boy" everyone expected. But deep inside, something stirred. Something dark. Something I hid from everyone—even myself.
And then there was my mother. Many people wondered why I forgave her so quickly. The truth? It wasn't real forgiveness but respect. She had made mistakes, but I wouldn't turn my life into a crusade against her. She raised me, taught principles I still carry. There was no room for constant fights or grudges. Just the necessary distance to survive.
"We'll figure this out," I murmured, still staring at my reflection in the mirror.
With a quick motion, I pulled off the beanie. My hair fell over my shoulders, natural and wild—white dreads with black streaks. Unique. I ran my fingers through them, smoothing out the slight mess. Then, I took off my glasses and looked directly into my eyes for the first time in weeks.
They shone like the northern lights—but not like the soft lights of the Arctic. It was something more intense, almost chaotic. Vivid colors blended in a pattern that seemed to pulse with its own life. I sighed. Behind that reflection, I knew exactly who I was. And I knew why I spent so much time trying to forget.
I headed to the bathroom and let the hot water wash over my body. Steam filled the small space, covering the mirror in a dense mist. The water ran through my hair and over the scars marking my body. A constant reminder of where I'd been and what I'd had to do to get here. The silence was broken only by the sound of water hitting the floor.
I stepped out of the shower and went straight to the closet. There were options for every occasion, but black was always my choice. I found a perfectly tailored suit that seemed to mold every line of my body. I picked a long-sleeve black shirt and a pair of elegant shoes.
Before dressing, I applied an expensive perfume, one of those that made a statement effortlessly. I cared for my hair minimally—they were always perfect, naturally growing in a way I couldn't explain. I looked in the mirror and, for the first time in a long while, allowed myself to admire what I saw.
My body, strong and athletic, wasn't exaggerated but carried the mark of years of training. The muscles were defined but functional. My height of 1.87 meters gave me an imposing presence. And suddenly, a thought occurred to me: I was handsome. Narcissistic, perhaps, but it was impossible to deny.
Finally, I opened the drawer of my bedside table. There it was: the black ring. The symbol of the Order. Unlike the white rings of the lower ranks, mine bore the number zero engraved in gold. A number no one but me could wear. I slid it onto my finger. Tonight, I wouldn't be a shadow.
I descended the stairs and saw them: my mother and my sister, Nayara. My mother wore a long black-and-white gown adorned with precious stones. Nayara, on the other hand, wore a tight black dress that highlighted her elegant and lethal figure. Both were radiant, each in their own way. They were a vision worthy of respect and, perhaps, fear.
I kept my expression neutral, cold. "Good choice of dresses," I commented, emotionless. Pride stopped me from saying anything more.
"You look amazing too," they replied in unison.
A smile almost threatened to escape, but I controlled it. I passed by them in silence, adjusting the sleeve of my suit. The night would be long, but I knew dinner at the White mansion would be more than just a family gathering.
After all, it was the home of the man we didn't know, but whose blood ran through our veins.
### POV: Nayara
The previous night had been restless. I spent hours tossing and turning in bed, sleep evading me like an enemy to be defeated. The reason was simple: tonight would be the dinner at the White estate. I was supposed to be excited, right? Who wouldn't enjoy a luxurious party surrounded by powerful mobsters, even if it meant dealing with... *him*.
Yes, I knew who my father was. But it didn't matter to me. He was never part of my life, never contributed anything beyond a legacy stained with blood. The Queen trained us. She was the one who shaped Nael and me, turning us into lethal weapons. Among the top three assassins in the Order, I held the third position. Only the Queen and Nael ranked above me. And, to be honest, it bothered me.
There was a question that always lingered in my mind: between the two, who was the best? The Queen? Or Nael? Perhaps I would never find out. We competed in silence, like shadows crossing the same path. He was skilled, lethal, and, above all, unpredictable. But I wasn't far behind.
I pushed these thoughts aside with a sigh and got up. The day was already dragging on, and I needed to prepare. I entered the bathroom and turned on the shower. The hot water washed away more than fatigue; it took with it doubts, fears, everything I couldn't carry today. When I stepped out, I was ready to face the mirror.
I walked to the closet. The options of clothes were nearly endless—vibrant colors, luxurious fabrics. But in the end, my choice was simple: black. A tight dress that hugged my body like a second skin. It was elegant and practical, perfect for any occasion. I adjusted the fabric, checking every detail. I didn't need extravagance; my presence spoke for itself.
I applied subtle makeup, just enough to highlight my crystal-blue eyes. My hair, long and golden like the sun, was left loose, cascading over my shoulders. I grabbed a small, simple yet refined bag and gave a final glance in the mirror before leaving the room.
I went down to the living room and found my mother already waiting. She was impeccable, as always. Her dress, a mix of black and white adorned with precious stones, exuded a quiet authority. She was Celestia Black—founder of Black Enterprises, a woman who commanded any space she entered.
I waited beside her for less than a minute before hearing footsteps descending the stairs. When I looked up, I saw Nael. And I had to admit, he looked... impressive.
If he weren't my younger brother, perhaps things would have been different. Fate, however, has a cruel sense of humor. He wore a perfectly tailored black suit, fitted flawlessly to his athletic body. His hair, long white dreads with black streaks, fell past his shoulders, shining under the room's soft light. But what stood out the most were his eyes.
Nael's eyes weren't ordinary. They shone like an intense aurora borealis, with vivid colors that seemed to hold a whirlwind of emotions and secrets. He carried that gaze with calculated coldness, but I knew there was much more behind it. He was a mystery even to me.
"Good choice of dresses," he commented, his voice low and indifferent.
I knew what he meant. We looked stunning, but he would never admit that directly. Nael's pride was a wall, something he would never let crumble.
"You look incredible too," my mother and I responded in unison.
For a moment, silence hung between us. It wasn't uncomfortable, but it wasn't warm either. We were a family, yes, but one made of cracks and secrets.
Nael adjusted the sleeve of his suit and cast us a nearly defiant look. He was ready, that much was clear. But there was something in his eyes that made me question what, exactly, he expected from tonight.
POV: CelestiaNight had fully fallen by the time I saw my children descending the stairs. The dim lighting in the living room highlighted their features in an almost cinematic way, as if the world conspired to enhance their presence. Even after all these years, seeing them together like this always stirred something within me—a mix of pride, concern, and the nagging sense that change was on the horizon.
Nael led the way, as always. His presence filled the room in an undeniable manner. Dressed entirely in black, the color seemed tailor-made for his personality. His posture was impeccable, shoulders broad and spine straight, as if he bore the weight of the world effortlessly. His eyes were the most intriguing—chaotic, clashing colors danced like a captured aurora borealis within his irises. They were so unique that, looking into them, it was easy to forget that perfection could also be terrifying.
His hair, white as freshly fallen snow, streaked with black strands, cascaded past his shoulders. That whiteness wasn't something that could be recreated with dyes or artifice. It was natural, pure, almost translucent under the light. His skin, a rich chocolate tone, was smooth as polished porcelain yet carried the firmness of someone who had lived through more battles than anyone his age should. He was 18, but the gravity in his gaze made it seem as if he carried centuries of experience.
Behind him came Nayara, moving with the feline grace that had always defined her. Her black dress clung to her body like a second skin, highlighting her curves without effort. Her golden hair fell in soft waves, shimmering under the light like true threads of gold. Her crystal-clear blue eyes reflected the light in a mesmerizing way, like shards of polished ice. She had a classic beauty, but next to Nael, even her perfection seemed more earthly.
And then there was me, watching from a distance. I knew it wasn't just because they were my children that they commanded so much attention. They were masterpieces of genetics, marked by a uniqueness that made them impossible to ignore.
"Children, we were supposed to be there by 6 PM, and we're already late. Let's move," I announced, trying to break the silent moment. They nodded wordlessly, and soon we were in the car, heading down the road toward the White mansion.
The ride was quiet but heavy. None of us seemed willing to break the silence, each lost in our own thoughts. In less than 40 minutes, we arrived at our destination.
The mansion was grandiose, almost absurd in its opulence. The tall wrought-iron gates opened to reveal a garden that looked like something out of a fairy tale. Trees trimmed into perfect shapes, fountains illuminated by artificial lights, and a stone-paved road leading to the main entrance. The house itself was monumental, with multiple wings and seemingly endless windows.
Inside, we were immediately greeted by a deafening silence. Every gaze in the room turned to us. It was clear that our late arrival had made an impression. I stood on the right, Nayara on the left, and Nael, as always, in the center. At 5'10", I felt tall, but next to Nael, with his imposing 6'2" frame, I seemed smaller. Nayara, at 5'9", completed the trio with her innate elegance.
The consigliere of the White family rose from his main chair. His perfectly tailored suit reflected the light of the hall, and he opened a smile that didn't reach his eyes. "May I have everyone's attention? I'd like to introduce my nephews and their mother," he announced, his voice dripping with false cordiality.
He started with me. "This is Celestia Black, founder of Black Enterprises." His tone carried a mix of pride and condescension, as if my position was something he could claim as his own merit.
Then, he turned to Nayara. "This is Nayara Black White, the eldest daughter of this woman. The White surname was added merely to demonstrate power."
When his gaze landed on Nael, he hesitated. It was evident that even he struggled to define the boy. "This is my second nephew. He goes by the name of—"
Before he could finish, Nael interrupted. His voice cut through the air like a sharp blade. "Nael Supremium," he said, with a tone so firm it left no room for argument.
The entire hall seemed to hold its breath. Nael, with his flawless posture and hypnotic eyes, was a spectacle no one could ignore. He exuded authority in a way that few could comprehend.
"Excuse me," he said, his voice carrying a calculated coldness, and he began to walk away.
"We're not done yet," the consigliere attempted to insist, his voice slightly louder, trying to regain control of the situation.
"For me, we are," Nael replied without turning around, his coldness freezing the atmosphere.
Nayara glanced at me, exchanging a look of silent understanding before following after him. "I won't stay here," she murmured, already walking away.
Before she could go far, I grabbed her arm. "Wait," I said in a low but firm tone. "Let him have his space. You don't want to make things worse."
Then, I turned to the consigliere, stepping close enough so only he could hear me. "You have no idea what you're dealing with. Don't provoke them; don't test their limits. They grew up away from you, without your influence, and that made them independent in a way you cannot control."
He tried to retort, with an arrogance bordering on recklessness. "I'm not afraid of brats."
I laughed softly, a cold, humorless sound. "That's the problem. They're not brats. They're more like weapons. And you don't want to see what happens when those weapons are aimed in the wrong direction."
He remained silent, and I stepped back, feeling the weight of my own warning. My children were mine, but at the same time, they were something much greater. Something even I feared to awaken fully.
Finally, I spoke, breaking the silence. "It's time to meet our host."
The "host." "Our father," Nayara mused aloud.
The word sent an involuntary shiver down my spine, but I hid it with a calm smile. Nael remained silent, but his eyes glimmered with something I couldn't identify. Together, we walked through the door, ready to face the ghosts of our past—and the monsters of the present.