Home / Urban / MICHAEL SULLIVAN: NEW DYNASTY / — 50 —

— 50 —

Author: C. Sygil

2025-07-04 16:20:34

The private study felt different this time. Smaller, more intimate, and somehow more dangerous. Frank sat behind his desk without the wheelchair, without the oxygen tank, without any of the medical equipment that had accompanied him in previous meetings. His color was good, his posture straight, and his eyes held a sharpness that made Michael's stomach clench with suspicion.

"The third assessment will be conducted differently," Frank announced to the assembled siblings. "Each of you will present to me privately. The others will wait outside."

Michael glanced at Ava, who stood slightly behind him and to his left. She'd been glitching constantly since Wagner's "assistance," but she was keeping it together for now. The rage that filled him when he thought about Wagner's virus still surprised him with its intensity.

"Phillip, you're first," Frank said.

As Phillip rose and straightened his suit, Michael studied his adoptive father more carefully. The man who had claimed to be dying looked

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— 63 —
The abandoned restaurant felt like a tomb. Michael followed Salvatore Russo and Brother North inside, his heart hammering against his ribs as Esteban Martinez's eyes tracked his every movement."Please, sit," Martinez said, gesturing to a round table.Michael sat across from Martinez, painfully aware of how the man's gaze never left his face. Alexis took the chair beside him, her posture straight and perfect despite the situation. North and Russo flanked them, while Martinez's men positioned themselves near the exits."So," Martinez said, his voice calm as he settled into his chair, "here we are again. Except this time, I know exactly who you are." His eyes burned with fury. "Michael Sullivan. The man who sat across from me weeks ago, shook my hand, and lied to my face."Michael's throat felt dry. "Mr. Martinez, I can explain—""Explain?" Martinez's voice rose slightly before he caught himself. "You looked me in the eye and told me you were Salvatore Russo. You negotiated a deal under
— 62 —
Michael's throat felt like sandpaper as Brother North settled into the rusted metal chair across from him, the screech of metal against concrete echoing through the warehouse. "You know what the funny thing is?" North said, his voice carrying that unsettling conversational tone that made Michael's skin crawl. "I actually started to like you. The Consigliere with the quick mouth and wits." He leaned forward, studying Michael's face. "You remind me of an old friend of mine, young and too smart for his own good." "What happened to your friend?" Michael asked, not sure he wanted to know the answer. North's expression darkened. "He got shot trying to negotiate with people who don't negotiate. That's the problem with smart guys like you—you think everything can be solved with words." "Sometimes it can," Michael said carefully. "Sometimes," North agreed. "But sometimes, people just need to understand that actions have consequences." He stood up and began pacing, his energy building. "Do
— 61 —
Michael woke to the taste of copper in his mouth and the sound of water dripping somewhere in the darkness. His head throbbed, and when he tried to move, he discovered his hands were tied behind his back. The rough rope bit into his wrists. "He's awake," a voice said. Michael's vision slowly cleared, revealing a warehouse. Industrial lights hung from the ceiling, casting harsh shadows across concrete floors and metal support beams. The air smelled of oil and rust. Brother North stepped into the light, but he was nothing like the jovial guy Michael had met before. His smile was gone, replaced by cold fury. His clothes were different too, more professional, like he was dressing for serious business. "You've got some balls, I'll give you that..how long did you think you could get away with pretending to be someone you're not," North said. "I don't know what you mean," Michael said, his voice hoarse. "Sure you don't," North said, then stepped aside. Another man moved into th
— 60 —
Michael woke to the sound of running water and the soft rustle of silk. The hotel suite was bathed in golden morning light, and for a moment, he forgot where he was. Yesterday's memories came flooding back, along with the weight of everything he still needed to understand about his mother's past.The bathroom door opened, and Alexis emerged in a white robe, her red hair damp and catching the light. She noticed him watching and smiled."Good morning, sleepyhead," she said, moving to the dresser where she'd laid out several shopping bags from the night before. "You look like you've seen a ghost."Michael felt his cheeks warm as she dropped the robe casually and began getting dressed. He quickly looked away, focusing on the ceiling."Aww, you're adorable," Alexis said with amusement. "I'm not used to this," Michael admitted, still avoiding eye contact."Used to what? Expensive hotels or seeing a woman get dressed?""Both, I guess," Michael replied with a shrug.Alexis laughed, a genuin
— 59 —
The Medici mansion loomed against the night sky, its windows glowing like watching eyes. Michael parked his car in the circular driveway, noting that most of the family cars were absent. Good. He didn't want an audience for this conversation.Ava was waiting for him by the front entrance, her posture alert and ready. "Michael, again, I'd like to advise against this course of action.""I need to know what's going on," Michael said grimly. They walked through the front doors, past the grand staircase and portraits of the previous Medicis. Their footsteps echoed in the empty hallways."Frank's study is this way," Michael said, leading Ava down a corridor lined with some very interesting artwork. He wondered now if any of these paintings contained hidden codes like the ones Lizzy had discovered.They reached the door of Frank's study. Michael didn't bother knocking. He pushed the door open and stepped inside.The room was barely lit by a single desk lamp. Behind the massive desk sat Fran
— 58—
Michael sat across from Lizzy at Romano's, a quiet Italian restaurant downtown. Lizzy had insisted they meet somewhere private, away from the family mansion and prying eyes."You look terrible," Lizzy said, studying his face. "When's the last time you slept?""We:ll talk about that later," Michael replied, taking a sip of his coffee. "What did you find?"Lizzy glanced around the restaurant, then leaned forward. "I've been going through the gallery's transaction logs like you suggested. At first, everything seemed normal. Standard purchases, insurance payments, maintenance costs. But then I noticed something odd."She pulled out a folder from her purse and opened it on the table. Inside were photocopies of bank statements and receipts."These are payments from Frank to something called Korvich Advancement Initiative," she said, pointing to several highlighted entries. "They go back fifteen years, Michael. Millions of dollars."Michael's heart skipped. "KAI. That's Elena Korvich's comp

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