The Weight of Names

"Names carry weight. Some lift you. Others drown you."

The Connolly name had was heavy.

It pressed on the estate like fog—settling in the cracks of the marble floor, in the portraits that lined the halls, and in the way people lowered their voices when Declan entered the room.

Downstairs, the drawing room was filled with quiet tension. Men from every corner of the Connolly empire had come. Some wore sharp suits, others leather jackets with bruised knuckles. They whispered among themselves, keeping their eyes on the grand staircase.

Declan stood at the top, unseen for now, watching them gather.

"They don't look too eager to listen," Liam's voice cut softly from behind him.

Declan turned slightly. Liam stood just to his right, small hands gripping the wooden banister as he peered down at the crowd below.

"They're not here to listen," Declan muttered. "They're here to see who's standing."

Liam's green eyes narrowed.

"They know you're in charge now. Isn't that enough?"

Declan exhaled.

"In this world, Liam? Enough doesn't exist."

The Drawing Room – Thirty Minutes Later

By the time Declan descended the stairs, the room had gone still.

Every eye followed him as he crossed the polished floor, taking his seat at the head of the long oak table.

Liam trailed behind. stopping by the window. He perched on the sill, dangling his legs, observant.

Dwan entered last, lingering by the door with his usual stoic expression—part bodyguard, part reminder to behave.

Declan adjusted his cuffs, letting the silence linger.

Finally, Luca Ferraro broke it.

"Long table for someone so young," Luca said, leaning back in his chair. His grey suit matched the color of his hair, but his eyes—sharp and hungry—betrayed any sign of age.

Declan barely glanced at him.

"I'm exactly where I should be."

Luca smirked, folding his hands.

"Your father used to sit there. Shame about him. The city doesn't feel the same without Michael Connolly calling the shots."

Declan's grip on the armrest tightened.

"The city hasn't changed. And neither has this family."

Luca's gaze flicked to Liam by the window.

"Looks like it has to me."

Liam met his stare without blinking, tilting his head slightly.

"I think the city looks better without you in it, Mr. Ferraro."

The room tensed. A few men coughed.

Luca's smile thinned, but his voice remained smooth.

"Cute kid. Got your father's mouth?"

"And his eyes," Liam added lightly."You should remember that part."

Declan shot Liam a quick look—not angry, but cautioning.

Liam just shrugged, letting the words hang between them.

"He's not wrong," Declan said after a beat. "The eyes are important."

Luca's gaze lingered on Liam for a second too long before finally returning to Declan.

"Eyes don't win wars, Declan. Men do."

Declan leaned forward, his voice dropping low.

"Then it's a good thing I have both."

After the Meeting – Connolly Estate Library

The men left slowly, filing out with nods and quiet conversations.

Luca was the last to leave, pausing just long enough in the doorway to let Declan know this wasn't over.

When the door finally shut behind them, Declan slumped into the armchair near the fireplace, rubbing his temples.

"You handled that well," Dwan said, pouring himself tea from the side table.

"I handled it." Declan's voice was flat.

Liam hopped down from the windowsill, padding over to the chessboard near the bookshelf.

"Ferraro didn't like being outplayed."

Declan smirked, resting his chin in his hand.

"He's stupid."

Liam began moving the chess pieces around idly.

"You didn't answer his question."

Declan glanced over.

"What question?"

Liam didn't look up.

"About Dad. You let him think the city's still ours. But is it?"

Declan's smile faded.

"It is for now."

Liam's hand hovered over the queen.

"For now isn't good enough."

Declan watched him for a moment.

"I know."

Later That Night – Upstairs Hallway

Declan lingered outside Liam's room, leaning against the wall as Dwan approached.

"He's sharp," Dwan said quietly.

"Too sharp for six," Declan muttered.

Dwan crossed his arms.

"He's watching you, Declan. How you handle Ferraro, how you carry the name. It matters to him."

Declan let out a breath, pinching the bridge of his nose.

"I don't want him involved in this. Not yet."

Dwan's eyes softened slightly.

"You won't have a choice. He carries the name, same as you."

Declan looked toward Liam's door.

"It's too heavy for him."

"Maybe." Dwan straightened, tugging his cuffs.

"Or maybe he's the only one who can carry it."

Declan didn't respond, but as Dwan stepped away, he quietly opened Liam's door.

Inside, Liam lay curled under the blankets, the blue toy plane tucked beneath his arm.

Declan lingered in the doorway for a moment longer.

"Good night, Liam."

Half-asleep, Liam's voice drifted softly through the dark.

"Good night, Declan."

The name hung between them, heavy but unbroken.