Vincent never intended to return home. Not after everything he had done to sever ties with his family. But despite his efforts, the Blackwood name still weighed on his shoulders like an unshakable burden. He could feel its shadow following him, no matter how deeply he had immersed himself in the Vasiliev empire.
For months, Vincent had deliberately kept his distance, ignoring the occasional messages from his older brother and dismissing the silent expectations that loomed over him. He did not belong to the Blackwood family anymore—not in the way his father wanted. And yet, in the world of the elite, bloodlines were not so easily erased.
Despite the rumors that Vincent had abandoned his family, he knew the truth. He had given up the Blackwood empire for his brother, out of love. He had never wanted to take his brother's place, never wanted to be the cause of his suffering. But his father, the King of Mafias, had never understood that.
To his father, strength was everything. A son who could not surpass his younger brother was unworthy of inheritance. And so, Vincent had made a choice: he had stepped aside, allowing his older brother to take the position of heir. He had walked away from the empire, leaving behind everything—including the family who now viewed him as a disappointment.
The upper circles had their own interpretation of events.
Some whispered that the Blackwood family had betrayed their greatest genius, forcing him to become an idol because he had no place in their empire. Others claimed that Vincent had willingly abandoned them, cutting ties with the Blackwood name in pursuit of his own goals. But no one knew the truth. Not his father, not his older brother, not even the Vasilievs.
Vincent kept his silence, refusing to correct the rumors. Let the world believe what it wanted.
He did not need the Blackwood name.
Not anymore.
But no matter how much he tried to ignore it, the weight of his past was not something he could simply walk away from.