Despite the long-standing bad blood between Anthony and her father, Doreen felt nothing but indifference toward her uncle. Likewise, Anthony had never seemed to hold any personal grudge against her. She hoped that small mercy would work in her favor today.

When she arrived at her uncle’s estate, the butler ushered her inside. Another servant led her to Anthony’s office and left her to wait. Doreen quietly stood in the room, her head still throbbing from her father’s outburst the day before. The letter opener he’d hurled at her had left her with stitches on her eyebrow.

The office door swung open, snapping her out of her thoughts. Anthony strode in, flanked by two armed guards. “Doreen,” he said, surprised but not unkind. “I wasn’t expecting you today. Please, sit.” Doreen lowered herself into the chair opposite his desk, buying herself a few more seconds before she had to deliver the news.

“An issue has come up with last week’s exports,” she began.

“Oh?” Anthony leaned forward, giving her his full attention.

“Unfortunately, two of your containers were…mistakenly routed to the Cartel of the Suns.” Anthony’s gaze flicked to the freshly stitched cut on her brow. “Is that your father’s handiwork?”

“Accident with a letter opener,” Doreen replied, keeping her tone even.

“Accidente, mi culo,” Anthony muttered in Spanish. “Si no quieres responder con la verdad, prefiero que no respondas nada.”

Doreen dropped her eyes and switched to Spanish as well. “No quise ofender.” “I don’t believe for a second this was your mistake,” he continued in English. “So why has your father sent you here to take the blame?” Despite her own disdain for Tiny, she had no intention of revealing the discord within their faction. Anthony might be blood, but he led the Purple faction first and foremost. Family ties came second.

“I allowed the final sign-off,” she said simply. “So it’s my responsibility.” Anthony leaned back in his leather chair and studied her for a long moment. “My in-laws aren’t going to be happy about returning that pile of Christmas you just dropped on them. Two containers…” He let out a low whistle. “That’s what? Almost two hundred million, give or take?” “One forty,” Doreen corrected quietly. “We’re trying to get the ship rerouted as we speak, but -”

“Once they’re on the water, contact gets difficult,” Anthony finished for her.

“Yes.”

He exhaled sharply. “And my dear twin brother wants…what? For me to take my pound of flesh from you and keep the top boss out of it? Ralé could get those containers back with one phone call, but instead Anton offers you up like a sacrificial lamb.”

“Please,” Doreen said, her voice tight. “If Ralé finds out about this mistake, it won’t go well for any of us.” “Any of you, you mean. The Blue faction.” Anthony stretched his arms behind his head, then muttered a string of curses in Spanish. “Unlike your father, I actually have a heart and care about my blood.” He turned to one of the guards. “Tell Helena about this. See if her family of vultures can do the right thing for once.”

“Yes, boss,” the guard replied, and promptly left the room.

“Thank you, Uncle,” Doreen said softly. “Don’t thank me yet.” Anthony’s eyes hardened. “Whether we recover the shipments or not, you’re still indebted to me. If we do, I expect you to personally remember the grace I’ve shown you today. If we don’t…we’ll have to revisit this conversation.”

“I understand.”

Doreen stood, gave her uncle a short, respectful nod, and left the office. As she walked out, she silently prayed the containers would be recovered in time.