A CEO's Child

The Breakfast Among Things

Venyamin and his sister were the first to arrive to the breakfast. Kanston had done wonders on the suit and his baby belly was completely unnoticeable. The black suit highlighted his wide, strong chest and shoulders, and snug tight to his biceps. Now all he had to do was hope the baby didn't make a fool out of him--which if the bean did, he completely deserved. He had almost killed her not more than a few days ago. 

He hadn't seen his mother Azaliya, sister Risona, or brother Helsing since he'd left Russia, fleeing family affairs, the mafia, and the military, worked the docks in America, met Anissa and had fallen in love. He hadn't wanted to come back, and now was most likely the worst time. His mother was dying,  his marriage was a mess, he wasn't at peak capabilities with his pregnancy,  and he wasn't up to date with anything besides the little knowledge Viorica had told him. All he really knew was she and her betrothed wanted the throne to expand but Helsing was making grabs and Risona was unknown. For all he knew Viorica could be lying too. 

He studied the immaculate, tall ceiling lit by blazing chandeliers, and then to walls held by carved marble columns. He'd hated this place too, it was so damn cold. The family estates. Where the cold weather wasn't nearly as frigid as the ruthlessness of his mother's soul. It was about time she passed, as horrible as that was to think. 

"My boy, is that you? My little star." There was a crackling whisper. He pivoted on his heel, glancing over the endlessly long, wooden dinging table. 

By the windows on the other wide of the room, was an old crone in a wheel chair with piercing blue eyes to match his own. The face was much more wrinkled, the wispy hair completely white, and the visible shoulders bowed and sunken. Vaguely under her cosmetics could he see the horrific scar dragging near the right corner of her mouth, down her jaw, and on to her neck towards her right ear--courtesy of his father. 

"Mother," he gave a polite dip of his head but did not approach her. 

"You, boy, are the absolute last person I'd expect to see here. What has finally caused your return?" 

"You sickness of course."

"I'm as healthy as a horse. Don't be silly."

It took everything in his power not to raise his brows. He kept his face neutral as he said, getting a feel for her. "It is time we decide to move forward, mother. Your legacy is not long for this world." 

"And you, who disappears for what?  five years? are what? going to suddenly dictate my demise? Boy you are playing dangerous games even being here today. You left the family. You are not one of us."

Viorica took a sharp breath from beside him. While she didn't vocalize anything he could hear her mentally swearing at herself. Clearly she'd forgotten to tell him how furious their mother had been at him leaving, which was no surprise to him. 

"Ah. Forgive me mother."

"What's so interesting in that patriotic piss hole you reside in nowadays?"

"A free life." 

She laughed, the tone so harsh his hair rose on the back of his neck. His mother truthfully sounded like nails on a chalk board. He vaguely had the impulse to rub his belly. Standing was starting to grow uncomfortable. He pushed his shoulders back further in response and sighed. 

"So what's the call? Are you going to let me join you for breakfast?"

"Always so blunt, my boy. No I won't call the guards." There was a long pause as she moved the chair away from the windows. She was hardly in but a slip of blue clothing and the room was quite positively freezing.  "You may be my first born, and once my prior heir, but let me be clear, you have no such authority anymore. One wrong move my little Venny, and you will die today. You had everything and threw it in our faces, now we shall turn our shoulders to you but not our backs. "