Finally, the ledger of rewards appeared. Every loyal member had been granted generous bonuses—cash, property stakes, influence—but my column glowed a harsh, unforgiving red zero.
I clenched my fists, staring up at Sebastian, who lingered nearby, silent and watchful.
“You’re really going to exile me… tonight?” I asked, voice tight with controlled anger.
The crystal continued cycling through the compromising images: me laughing with other family heads, sharing a toast, and in one humiliating shot, caught in an embrace as I stepped into a private office with one of them.
Sebastian finally tore his eyes away from the screen and gave me a cold, unreadable look. He said nothing.
“I asked you a question,” I pressed again, sharper this time. “Are you sure?”
The room went quiet. Every capo and soldier’s gaze was on him now, a mixture of fear and awe. Sebastian ignored it all, stepping forward until he loomed over me. His voice was ice scraping stone.
“Arwen,” he began, each word deliberate, “what right do you have to remain in this family? Every ounce of this family’s power comes from effort… except yours.”