After one year, Father invited me to my first Montenegro family council meeting.
He didn’t ask. He simply told me, “It’s time,” and handed me the invitation with the Montenegro crest embossed in gold. The meeting was to be held in one of our private fortress estates in Valencia, a place only reserved for the highest–level gatherings. No outsiders. No recordings. Only blood, power, and strategy.
I wore black. Not flashy. Not soft. A tailored suit with clean lines and sharp heels. My hair was slicked back, and my face was unreadable. I walked in without fear because I knew why I was there. I had earned my seat.
The room was filled with our global allies. Arms dealers from Eastern Europe, oil magnates from the Middle East, silent investors from old royal families, intelligence brokers, and crime lords who owned parts of the world behind curtains. Everyone looked toward Michael and Niko, expecting the usual. No one even glanced at me–at first.
Father sat at the head of the long stone table, flanked by his two sons, and left one seat open
beside him. That was mine.
I took my place quietly, and some murmurs rose. I saw the subtle smirks from the older men, the narrowed eyes of the more traditional ones. But I didn’t react. I sat straight, hands folded, and
istened.
Halfway through the meeting, Father tapped his ring against his glass and spoke clearly.
‘Before we continue,” he said, “you should all be properly introduced to my daughter. Geneva Villacruz Montenegro. My blood. My legacy. And the future of this empire.”
The silence was immediate.
A few of them turned to me, surprised. Some curious. Some clearly unimpressed. One, a Russian arms dealer in his sixties with a permanent sneer, let out a chuckle.
‘I deal in weapons, not emotions,” he said, lighting a cigar without asking. “No offense, Don, but I don’t take orders from women in heels.”
Michael didn’t flinch. Niko kept sipping his drink. They both waited.
I turned to the man slowly, met his eyes, and spoke in a voice low but firm.
‘You’re right. You don’t take orders from women,” I said. “But you do take orders from power. And as of this morning, I hold the codes to every Montenegro–controlled port your cartel has been trying to smuggle through. So unless you want your next shipment of missiles to vanish into the Pacific and your buyers to think you double–crossed them, I suggest you rephrase that insult before I erase your entire fleet from this map.”
He blinked. His smirk vanished. The table fell silent. Then Michael smirked slightly and continued writing notes. Niko raised his whiskey glass toward me without saying a word. Father let out a low laugh.
“That’s my daughter,” he said with pride, and no one questioned it again.
After the meeting ended, I didn’t have to seek anyone out. They came to me.
A Saudi prince approached and offered to fund a private operation under my command. He said
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12:52 pm pp
he liked the way I handled pressure. A silent partner from Hong Kong asked for a one–on–one meeting to negotiate expansion into Southeast Asia. Two South American drug lords offered to buy shares in our port security lines, but only under my name.
I realized I wasn’t just being accepted. I was being positioned. I wasn’t just part of the Montenegro legacy anymore. I was being watched as someone who could lead it
Later that night, Father called me to the garden balcony. The air smelled of wine and saltwater, and the lights from the estate lit the stone paths below. He poured me a glass of red wine and handed it to me without speaking for a moment.
You did well,” he finally said. “Better than I expected.”
They didn’t expect me to speak,” I answered. “That’s always the first mistake.”
He nodded. “Good. But power attracts enemies. Real ones. The kind who don’t make noise until hey’re ready to destroy everything. They’ll test you harder now.”
looked him in the eye and answered without blinking. “Let them.”
One evening I secretly met with Michael and Niko in the lower war room beneath the estate. It vas past midnight and the tech teams were already halfway through decrypting Salvacion archives. The lights were low and the servers hummed like the walls were breathing.
stood over the projection table while Michael loaded the recovered files. “We pulled surveillance ogs from the hospital wing, the Salvacion estate, and the old data backup from their shipping
etwork,” he said as he handed me a glass of water. “It’s all here.”
Jiko lit a cigarette and exhaled slowly. “This isn’t revenge anymore, Geneva. This is resurrection. ‘ou’re not coming to get even. You’re coming to take back your whole damn legacy.”
didn’t smile. I watched the screen as their system ran face–matching Al through years of leleted CCTV data. Then it landed on a clip that made my stomach tighten. The children’s egistry at the private hospital. The file name said “Eli Salvacion” and “Elle Salvacion“-my twins. And then a large red stamp across both entries: VOID.
They erased them,” I said quietly, voice dry in my throat. “He let them wipe Eli and Elle from the ystem. No birth certificates. No hospital records. No school registration.”
Michael leaned forward. “He didn’t just abandon them, Geneva. He legally erased his own
hildren.”
stared at the screen until my eyes blurred. I gritted my teeth and whispered, “He erased his own lood because a liar in silk whispered poison in his ear. But I’ll make him realize what he did, I’ll nake him bleed for abandoning the twins. I’ll carve it into his mind that Eli was his son. And when he sees the truth, when it breaks his fucking soul, I’ll watch him rot in his own regret.”
Michael moved aside and gestured to another screen. “We also found this.”
ake DNA results popped up, signed and sealed under a doctor’s name I recognized from the ospital records
liko said, “This man works for us now. He’s under the Montenegro network in Lisbon. You want im breathing or not?‘
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I didn’t flinch. “Breathing. I want him to testify before I burn them all. Publicly. I want him to say Margot paid him. I want the world to see what kind of monsters they really are.”
Niko cracked his knuckles. “Good. Then we’ll bleed them slow.”
Michael opened another window. A folder of screenshots. Messages between Niccolo and Margot. Hundreds of them. All cruel. All cold.
Margot: “The twins aren’t yours. Geneva’s lying. She cheated on you. She just wanted to trap you.”
Niccolo replied: “I’m done with her. That boy was never mine anyway.”
My chest went tight, but I stayed calm. I’ve gone numb to pain. It’s just data now. Another piece in the war map.
I walked to the wall, grabbed a marker, and pinned up the Salvacion family tree. Then I crossed out Niccolo’s name.
“New bloodline,” I said, writing over it. “Montenegro. Reborn.”
Michael stepped beside me. “You’re ready.”
I nodded. “Let’s begin.”
