Crown of Daughters

The morning broke gently over Gina's private estate. For once, there was no urgent call, no emergency in the network, no tremor in her control.

Just the sun, and the sound of Davina's soft laughter echoing through the garden.

Gina leaned against a column, watching her daughter chase butterflies across the hedged path. It was the first time in weeks she looked… free. Her cheeks carried a healthy flush again. Her eyes, wide with curiosity, sparkled like twin sapphires.

Aunt Houna stepped out beside her, sipping from a teacup as the morning breeze rustled the folds of her shawl. She said nothing at first, just watched the girl move—nimble, observant, cautious. Every bit her mother's daughter.

"She's changed," Houna murmured.

"She's awakening," Gina replied. "Not just to the truth—but to herself."

"She reminds me of you," Houna said. "The first time I pulled you from your father's bloodied arms, I saw those same eyes. Afraid, but dangerous. Capable."

Gina's jaw tightened, but she nodded. "You raised her as much as I did. More, in some ways."

Houna's gaze softened. "And I would do it again. Every second."

---

The past returned to her like a tide. She remembered the cold night ten years ago, when Gina returned to her door—barely alive, swollen with child, hunted by enemies who didn't yet know what they feared. It was Gina's second disappearance. The first had been when she was a teenager, ripped from her home by tragedy. But the second time, it was calculated.

Gina had come to Houna after she found out she was pregnant with Dave's child. She had intended to use Dave to get close to the Lansing empire—to get to Richard—but hadn't expected to fall in love with him. When she learned she was carrying his child, she knew she couldn't stay. Not while Richard Lansing still hunted shadows. Not while her secrets threatened to kill them both.

So she vanished again.

For ten years, Gina remained underground.

They had named the girl quietly.

Davina. Beloved. Strong.

Houna had wrapped her in a shawl lined with silver thread—one she had kept from her own mother—and whispered the names of every woman in their bloodline.

For seven years, they raised her in secrecy. Taught her languages, encryption, fencing, strategy, code. All hidden behind bedtime stories and lullabies.

Every day was a dance between the light and dark.

And Houna had never felt more alive.

"To be back in the game," she said aloud, eyes twinkling, "is like breathing smoke again. Familiar. Seductive. And just as deadly."

Gina glanced sideways at her aunt. "You missed it."

"I miss nothing," Houna replied. "But I do enjoy watching old enemies tremble."

---

A silence stretched between them, long but unbroken. Then Houna spoke, her voice low.

"Marianne Lansing. She came to me once."

Gina turned slowly. "What?"

"She knew she wasn't safe. Said Richard was tightening his grip. She feared for her life… and her son's. She asked me to help her disappear."

"You didn't tell me."

"She begged me not to. Said Richard would come after you if he knew we were in contact."

Gina's eyes narrowed. "So what happened?"

"He found her," Houna said flatly. "Took her. Confined her to that hospice you saw. She never had cancer. He paid the doctors to medicate her slowly into a state of compliance. Almost vegetative. Enough to convince the world she was dying."

Gina's breath stilled.

"Why?"

"Because her being alive is the only reason the old mafia circles still tolerate Richard. She was their crown. The one who tied him to legacy. If she dies… he loses his mask."

Gina's fists curled. "Then it's time we shatter that illusion."

Houna raised a brow. "Not yet. We let him wonder how she surfaced. Let paranoia eat him alive. That will be her revenge. And ours."

---

Inside the house, Davina finished her drawing and tucked it under her bed. It was a new one this time.

A woman with two shadows.

One wearing fire.

The other—a cloak of stars.

She didn't know why she drew it.

But something in her blood told her it was true.

---

Back in the garden, Houna reached for Gina's hand. "This isn't just about revenge anymore. It's about legacy. You don't just protect your daughter. You prepare her."

Gina nodded slowly. "I know."

"And when the time comes, you won't have to fight alone."

The wind picked up, scattering petals across the stones. A silent promise riding the air.

The next move would be theirs.

And it would be beautiful, and brutal, and final.