Lily of the Madheart.

----- (Sebastian)-----

If I believed in a god, I'd think he was turning his sights away from me because he knows the shit I'm about to start.

The sky is dark. Foggy too, and a little bit chilly. Good. I step in the office building, one of the many I own. It's deathly silent because the work day was over hours ago. In fact, there should only be two people in the entire building, held back by a plethora of unexpected work which they were told needed to be completed today.

I ride the elevator up to the top floor and step out, uninterrupted. Very good.

"Good day sir but we're -"

I ignore the secretary; pretty, blonde, and almost too young. Almost, Uncle likes to toe the line. She follows me as fast as she can in her heels, blabbing all the way. She must be new.

The old cunt looks up as I push his door open, the girl behind me. "I'm sorry sir. I tried to tell him you didn't want to see anyone, but he wouldn't listen."

She gnaws on her lip, waiting for him to speak, no doubt expecting a reprimand. Never mind that there was nothing she could have done to stop me, my uncle is not a rational man. "That's ok. Just bring us coffee. Come in Sebby."

Sebby. I hate that nickname. That was what he called me when he congratulated me on becoming Don after I killed the previous Don and all the other potential candidates.

Sebby was also what he called me when he took a knife to carve my chest; punishment for killing my Don, my father. "Good afternoon, Uncle Louis."

I move to sit when he tuts, shaking his head. I grit my teeth and straighten as he continues to thumb through the file in his hand. A fucking power play, to say he still has some semblance of control over me. "Now you may sit. And don't ever forget your fucking manners."

I bite my tongue and take the seat opposite him, crossing my ankles, feeling the barrel of my gun poke into my side. You're never fully dressed without a piece. It's settles me enough to get back on track. "I need your opinion on something."

"Go on, boy." Boy? I grit my teeth.

"It's about one of my employees." Blondie comes in here with a tray of coffee. The center table is low, so she has to bend over to set it down. And although she angles herself away from him, Uncle Louis leans over to smack her ass. "Thank you, Gloria honey."

She grimaces and scuttles off. Her name isn't Gloria. Gloria was the name of his first secretary all those years ago, killed in the same shootout that killed my mother. He hasn't learned any of their names since. "The employee in question has been with me for a while. From the beginning really," I continue.

He's scrolling on his phone now but I know he's listening. Uncle Louis may be graying at the temples but he's still a smart man, one who doesn't know where I'm going with this. "But I have no use for him anymore."

"Then why is he still with the company? Fire him," he says, eyes still on his phone. "He's also in the Family. He knows a lot, too much and he won't be happy about that."

"Well, that changes nothing. Fire him and find a way to keep him quiet."

"What if I know he won't be quiet, no matter what I offer? I really, really need him to be quiet." My uncle sits back, all pretense gone. He thinks he's figured it out, my dilemma, and drops his guard. He definitely understands having a multitude of skeletons in his closet. "I see."

"Yes."

"Pull the trigger," he shrugs. At this, I sit back, as though I just wanted him to confirm what I knew. "You think so, Uncle?"

"Yes. No one needs to know you sent him on his way."

I nod and stand. "Thank you."

I grab my pistol from beneath my jacket and point it at him, right between his beady eyes. I see the moment of realization, see his lips begin to form words. I don't wait to hear them. I do as he said and pull the trigger.

The shot rings out, hits and jerks his head back, splattering blood on those goddamn files he was looking at. The noise is not loud enough to drown out Blondie's terrified gasp or the sound of ceramic hitting the marble floor.

I sigh and turn around. A sugar bowl lays broken between us. Her eyes are as round as her open mouth. I knew there was a possibility this would happen. Oh well. I point the gun at her.

"No wait, no. I hate him, please. He," her lips shake and she stumbles on her words, "I won't say anything, Sir. Please. Not a goddamn word, I promise."

Hmm. I slowly put my gun down. "What's your name?"

"Meadow," she chokes out.

"Surname."

"Lockwood," she replies, her eyes shining with the amount of tears in them.

"Do you know mine?" She shakes her head, sniffing. She's very new.

"Sebastian Morell."

Her eyes go wide and she bows her head, shaking. "Sir-"

"And are you aware of what those with whom I am less pleased know me as?"

Her body shakes even more and she falls to her knees, a broken sob leaving her. She heaves, trying to catch her breath and part of me hopes she won't so I'll be done with this.

"Please- " she chokes out.

"I asked you a question, Lockwood."

"Yes! I do, sir. The Madheart Morell, Sir. I-"

"That's right." I take a step forward and she immediately shimmies - still on her knees - out of my way, flattening herself to the door. She's fully sobbing now. I glance down at her as I walk past. "Good day, Meadow."