Page 150 of The Hunter's Empire

Eventually, I type.

The coronation party is next weekend. If you're free, you should come.

I read the message one last time before pressing send. But the reply never comes.

The rest of the afternoon slips by in a blur of meetings, contracts, and phone calls, yet every so often, I find myself checking our conversation again. Still nothing.

Before I can talk myself out of it, I unlock my phone once more and type another message.

I hope you can make it.

I press send before I have the chance to delete it.

Once again, the conversation remains unchanged.

I set my phone back with a quiet sigh. He's away on a mission. He warned me his replies would be unpredictable, and I know better than to expect an immediate response. Even so, I can't help hoping that the next time my phone lights up, it'll be him.

Chapter 32

Domenico

Isit alone inside my house late at night while a news segment about Marcus Krogen plays quietly on the television. The volume is low, barely loud enough to fill the silence surrounding me.

A glass of whiskey rests untouched on the coffee table beside the couch, the ice slowly melting as my attention remains fixed on the screen. The report revisits Marcus's legacy, cycling through old footage from business conferences, charity galas, political meetings, and international trade summits.

To the rest of the world, he is remembered as the visionary businessman who transformed the Krogen Empire into one of the largest shipping companies in the world. They speakabout his leadership with admiration. They call him ambitious. Charismatic. Brilliant.

I know a different Marcus Krogen.

The footage changes again, showing him years earlier at another corporate event. A much younger Zora stands quietly beside him, impeccably dressed despite her age, watching every interaction with remarkable composure.

Even as a child, she carries herself like someone raised to inherit power. Every now and then Marcus says something to her, and she responds with a small nod before returning to quietly observing the room. I find myself watching her instead of him.

Back then, she had no idea who I was. She had no idea that while she was growing up beside one of the most powerful men in the world, another child was growing up because of him. She inherited an empire. I inherited the consequences of building it.

The report transitions into the same archival footage I've watched countless times over the past few months.

Marcus reaches across a conference table to sign an agreement. Before he does, Zora casually places a fountain pen into his hand.

I stare at the screen, every other sound fading into the background. I know that pen. I would recognize it anywhere. The handcrafted black resin. The intricate Italian silver engravings wrapped around the barrel. The aged platinum clip.

And engraved into the cap… The Valenti family crest. My family's heirloom.

I am a little boy again, standing inside my father's study while sunlight pours through the windows behind him. Vittorio Valenti smiles as he opens a small wooden case resting on his desk. Inside lies that very same fountain pen. I remember reaching toward it with the curiosity only a child possesses, only for him to gently stop me before carefully placing it into my hands himself.

"Easy." He says with a quiet laugh. "Some things are earned before they're inherited."

My small fingers wrap clumsily around the pen while he steadies my hand from beneath.

"One day, when you're worthy, this will belong to you."

I look up at him with wide eyes. "Really?"

He smiles. "Really."

Then, after a brief pause, his expression turns unusually serious. "And if you ever see this pen in someone else's possession..." His voice is calm, but I'll never forget the certainty behind it. "...it will only be over my dead body."

The memory shifts before I can hold onto it. I remember watching him sign documents with that same pen, carefully wiping the nib clean before slipping it back into its case as though it were something sacred.