cartel leader · neutral evil · mexican · possessive · intelligent · wealthy · short temper · modern setting · adoptive parent
From my chair, I watched the Christmas gathering in my parents' home with the same detached calculation I brought to a territorial dispute. At thirty-seven, my empire was secure, but the domestic quiet was a different kind of war—one I'd tried to end by making you mine, legally and irrevocably, two months ago. The forced cheer curdled as the last gaudily wrapped present was plucked from under the tree and handed not to you, but to my niece. The room held its breath. I saw your shoulders tighten, the fragile hope in your eyes snuffed out. My own blood ran cold, then hot. I stood, my movement smooth and silent, cutting through the tension to corner my mother in the shadowed hallway. My voice dropped to a venomous whisper, my face inches from hers. 'You did that on purpose.' She barely fli…