Chapter 5 Heir Wars, Baby-Voiced Commander

# Chapter 5: Heir Wars, Baby-Voiced Commander

"My brother has been dead for five years," I said through gritted teeth, keeping my voice low to avoid waking Luna, who was still asleep in the backseat. "You're lying."

Marsh's expression remained unchanged. "Your brother Thomas faked his death during the explosion. He'd been embezzling from Armitage Technologies for years, selling classified weapons designs to competitors. When your parents discovered the breach, he decided to eliminate the problem."

"Shut up." My knuckles were white on the steering wheel. "Thomas died in that explosion. I identified his body."

"You identified a body," Marsh corrected. "DNA tests can be manipulated when you have the right connections. Your brother is very much alive—and he's the one who activated my father's security team."

I wanted to scream, to hit something, to deny everything he was saying. But a horrible suspicion was taking root in my mind, connecting dots I'd been too blind to see.

"If what you're saying is true," I managed finally, "why would Thomas come after us now? After all these years?"

"Because of Luna." Marsh glanced back at our sleeping daughter. "When my father died, I inherited everything—including his surveillance network. Thomas has been watching from the shadows, waiting for an opportunity. Luna represents the ultimate prize—a child with both Marsh and Armitage DNA. The perfect puppet to control both family empires."

I pulled the car over abruptly, unable to continue driving with my mind in chaos. "I need proof."

Marsh reached into his jacket pocket and withdrew a phone I hadn't seen before. "This is a secure line, untraceable. Call this number." He showed me a contact labeled simply "Verification."

With trembling fingers, I dialed. The phone rang twice before a familiar voice answered—a voice I hadn't heard in five years, a voice that belonged to a ghost.

"Is it done, Marsh?" Thomas Armitage asked. "Do you have the child?"

I couldn't breathe. Couldn't speak. Marsh gently took the phone from my paralyzed fingers.

"Change of plans," he said smoothly. "You're talking to the wrong Armitage."

A pause, then: "Jocelyn? Well, this is an unexpected pleasure. I see my brother-in-arms has finally shown his true colors."

"You're no brother of mine," Marsh replied coldly. "And you're no longer welcome in my organization."

Thomas laughed—a sound that made my skin crawl with its familiarity. "Your organization? Everything you have exists because our fathers built it together. The Marsh-Armitage alliance was legendary until you killed Elias."

"Your sister needed to hear your voice," Marsh said, ignoring the accusation. "To understand what she's really fighting against."

"Jocelyn always was sentimental," Thomas replied. "Tell her I look forward to reuniting soon. I have so much to teach my niece about her heritage."

Marsh ended the call and turned to me. I sat frozen, my entire worldview collapsing around me.

"My brother..." I whispered. "My brother killed our parents? And now he's after Luna?"

"Yes." Marsh's voice was unexpectedly gentle. "I'm sorry, Jocelyn. I've been tracking him for years, trying to dismantle his network without alerting him to what I knew. When you and Luna showed up at my compound, it forced his hand."

A small voice came from the backseat: "Mommy? Why are you crying?"

I hadn't even realized tears were streaming down my face. I quickly wiped them away, turning to find Luna awake, watching me with concerned eyes.

"I'm not crying, baby. Just tired." I forced a smile. "Go back to sleep."

"You're lying," she said matter-of-factly. "Your voice gets higher when you lie."

Marsh chuckled despite the tension. "She's observant."

"Like her father," I admitted reluctantly.

Luna unbuckled her safety seat and climbed into the front, squeezing between us. "Are the bad men coming again?"

Marsh and I exchanged glances over her head. "Yes," he answered honestly. "But we're going somewhere safe now. Somewhere they can't find us."

"Can I help fight them?" Luna asked, her expression serious. "I'm good at helping."

"The best way you can help is by being brave and following instructions," I told her, smoothing her tangled curls.

She pouted. "That's what grown-ups always say when they don't want kids to help."

Marsh laughed again, a genuine sound that transformed his face. "You're absolutely right, princess. But this time, I promise you'll have an important job when we get where we're going."

This seemed to satisfy her. She settled back into her seat, and we continued driving through the night, finally arriving at dawn at a nondescript office building on the outskirts of the city.

"Your secret hideout is an accounting firm?" I asked skeptically as we parked in an underground garage.

"The best hideouts are hidden in plain sight," Marsh replied, leading us to a private elevator that required both a key card and retinal scan. "This building houses one of my legitimate businesses. The top three floors are secure and off any official blueprints."

The elevator opened directly into a penthouse apartment—modern, minimalist, with floor-to-ceiling windows offering a panoramic view of the city. Unlike the Pink Palace, there was nothing childish or whimsical about this space. It was clearly designed for function rather than comfort.

"Welcome to Command Central," Marsh announced. "Luna, there's a room for you down that hallway. Why don't you check it out while I talk to your mother?"

Luna skipped off to explore, leaving us alone in the vast living area.

"Your brother will expect us to keep running," Marsh said without preamble. "Instead, we're going to bring the fight to him. Tonight, I've called an emergency meeting of my organization's leadership. They need to know the truth about Thomas Armitage's infiltration."

"And where do Luna and I fit into this plan?" I asked.

"You'll both attend the meeting." At my alarmed look, he added, "It's necessary. There are questions about Luna's legitimacy as my heir. This ends tonight."

"You're using our daughter as a prop in your power play," I accused.

"I'm establishing her position in my organization," he corrected. "For her protection. If Thomas manages to eliminate me, Luna needs to have the full support of my people."

"She's five years old!"

"She's my heir," he countered. "And she's more capable than most adults I employ."

Before I could argue further, Luna returned, her expression puzzled. "There's no toys in my room. Just a big computer and some books about guns."

Marsh knelt to her level. "That's because this isn't a playhouse, princess. This is where we prepare for battle. The computer is for you to learn on."

Luna's eyes widened with interest. "What kind of learning?"

"The kind that will help us defeat the bad men," Marsh replied. "Your mother and I need to get ready for a very important meeting tonight. Can you practice your reading with those books I left you?"

She nodded solemnly. "I'll learn everything, Daddy. Promise."

Hours later, I stood in front of a mirror, barely recognizing myself. Marsh had provided clothing for the meeting—a sleek black dress that screamed power and danger, with hidden holsters for the two knives and compact handgun he'd also supplied. My hair was pulled back severely, emphasizing the cold determination in my eyes.

"You look like who you were always meant to be," Marsh said from the doorway. "Jocelyn Armitage, heir to an empire."

I turned to face him. He'd transformed as well, his casual tactical gear replaced by an impeccably tailored suit that did nothing to hide the lethal capability of his body. The cut on his forehead had been professionally dressed, now just a small line of butterfly bandages.

"Where's Luna?" I asked, adjusting one of my concealed weapons.

"Getting ready. I had appropriate attire brought for her as well."

I raised an eyebrow. "Please tell me you didn't put our five-year-old in a bulletproof evening gown."

His smile was enigmatic. "You'll see."

The meeting was held in a secure conference room four floors below the penthouse. As we descended in the private elevator, Luna between us, I studied my daughter with a mixture of pride and concern. She wore a simple navy blue dress with a Peter Pan collar, her wild curls tamed into neat pigtails. She looked like a normal kindergartener headed to a school recital—except for the determined set of her tiny jaw.

"Remember what we practiced," Marsh told her as the elevator slowed. "These people work for me, but some of them might not be happy about you."

"Because they don't think I'm really your daughter," Luna said with surprising perception. "Even though I have your eyes and your left-handedness and your tactical thinking patterns."

I shot Marsh a look. What exactly had he been teaching her in the few hours I'd spent preparing?

The elevator doors opened to reveal a dozen men and women in expensive suits, all standing when Marsh entered. Their expressions ranged from curiosity to open hostility as they took in Luna and me.

"Ladies and gentlemen," Marsh announced without preamble, "I've called this emergency session to address the security breach in our organization and to introduce two people who are vital to our future operations."

He guided us to the head of the table, where three chairs awaited. I sat rigidly, hyperaware of the weapons concealed on my body and the potential threats around the table.

"This is Jocelyn Armitage, sole surviving legitimate heir to Armitage Technologies," Marsh continued. "And this is Luna Marsh-Armitage, my daughter and heir."

Murmurs erupted around the table. An older man with silver hair and cold eyes spoke up. "With all due respect, Alexander, we've seen the DNA results. The child may share your genetic material, but she's not a true Marsh. The circumstances of her conception—"

"Are irrelevant," Marsh cut him off sharply. "Blood is blood, Vittorio. Or would you like me to remind everyone about your own complicated family tree?"

The man—Vittorio—subsided, though his expression remained skeptical.

Another voice spoke up—a younger man with a scar running down one cheek. "The DNA report indicated manipulation. How do we know this isn't an elaborate scheme by the Armitage woman to infiltrate our organization?"

Before Marsh could answer, Luna stood up on her chair, her tiny face serious. All eyes turned to her in surprise.

"I can prove I'm a Marsh," she announced in her clear, high voice. Without hesitation, she reached for the disassembled handgun that had been placed on the table as part of a security demonstration. With quick, confident movements, her small fingers reassembled the weapon perfectly.

The room fell silent as she handed the gun to her father, grip first. "The firing pin was modified for a lighter trigger pull. That's a Marsh specialty, isn't it, Daddy?"

Marsh's smile was equal parts pride and vindication. "Indeed it is, princess."

"I may be little," Luna continued, addressing the stunned faces around the table, "but I'm smart enough to know that DNA doesn't lie. Do you need me to verify yours?" She paused dramatically. "With bullets?"

I choked back inappropriate laughter at my daughter's perfect delivery of what was clearly a rehearsed line. The threat, coming from a pigtailed five-year-old, was somehow more chilling than if it had come from Marsh himself.

Vittorio's expression had shifted from skepticism to calculation. "She has your flair for the theatrical, Alexander."

"Among other qualities," Marsh agreed smoothly. He nodded to an assistant, who dimmed the lights and activated a projection screen.

What appeared made my blood run cold—a video of me in a hospital bed, clearly in the final stages of labor. My face contorted with pain as medical staff moved efficiently around me.

"What the hell, Marsh?" I hissed, reaching for the knife at my thigh.

"Trust me," he murmured back, his eyes never leaving the screen.

The video continued, showing the moment of Luna's birth—her first cry piercing the clinical atmosphere. But what followed that cry sent murmurs rippling through the room: the distinct sound of an automatic rifle being loaded, followed by my exhausted voice saying clearly: "If anyone touches my baby, I'll empty this into their skull."

The video froze on the image of me—sweaty, disheveled, and holding an AR-15 that I'd apparently had hidden in my hospital bed.

"That," Marsh said into the stunned silence, "is Luna's mother. The woman who managed to infiltrate my security, steal my genetic material, and then protect our child with the kind of dedication that defines the Marsh family ethos." He stood, commanding the room with his presence. "Anyone who questions Luna's legitimacy questions my judgment and my legacy. Is that clear?"

Nods circulated around the table. Vittorio was the last to agree, his calculating gaze moving between Luna and me before finally settling on Marsh. "She'll need proper training. The Marsh heir has responsibilities."

"She'll get everything she needs," Marsh assured him. "Now, to the real reason for this meeting. We have a traitor in our midst—someone working with Thomas Armitage to undermine our organization."

The revelation sent shock through the room. As Marsh detailed the evidence he'd gathered—financial trails, communication intercepts, security breaches—I watched the faces around the table. Someone here was reporting to my brother. Someone here couldn't be trusted.

Luna tugged at my sleeve, pulling me down so she could whisper in my ear: "The lady with the red nails keeps touching her necklace when Daddy talks about the traitor. That's a stress response. I learned about those in the books."

I glanced discreetly at the woman Luna had indicated—a elegant executive with sharp features and blood-red manicured nails who was indeed fidgeting with her pendant. I squeezed Luna's hand in acknowledgment, then subtly caught Marsh's attention, directing his gaze to the nervous woman.

He didn't miss a beat in his presentation, but I saw him tap a pattern on his watch—alerting security, I presumed.

The meeting continued for another hour, with Marsh outlining his strategy for rooting out Thomas's influence in the organization. Throughout, Luna sat perfectly still, observing everything with unnervingly adult focus. When questions arose about technical details, she occasionally whispered clarifications to me—explanations that demonstrated an understanding of criminal enterprises no child should possess.

As the meeting concluded, the woman with the red nails stood abruptly. "I need to step out. Urgent call from our operations in—"

She never finished the sentence. Two security personnel appeared at her sides, their movements smooth and practiced.

"Claudia will be assisting us with some additional questions," Marsh announced calmly. "The rest of you, implement the security protocols I've outlined. We move against Thomas Armitage at dawn."

As the room cleared, Luna tugged at Marsh's sleeve. "Did I do good, Daddy?"

He knelt to her level. "You were perfect, princess. How did you know about Claudia?"

"Micro-expressions," Luna replied seriously. "Plus, her shoes are Louboutins but they're last season's model. That means she's spending money on something else. Probably bribes."

Marsh and I exchanged looks over her head—equal parts pride and horror at our daughter's deductive reasoning.

Back in the penthouse, as I helped Luna change into pajamas, she suddenly doubled over, clutching her stomach.

"Luna? What's wrong?" I asked, alarmed.

"My tummy hurts," she whimpered. "I think I'm going to be sick."

I called for Marsh, who appeared instantly. "What happened?"

"I don't know. She was fine a minute ago."

Luna retched, and I barely got her to the bathroom in time. As she emptied her stomach, Marsh's phone rang.

"What?" he barked into the receiver. His expression darkened as he listened. "When? How many? Lock it down immediately."

He ended the call and turned to us, his face grim. "Thomas is making his move. He's breached the building's security."

I held Luna's hair back as she continued to be sick. "Is this a coincidence, or—"

"No coincidence," Marsh said. "Claudia talked. Thomas knows Luna is here."

Luna looked up, her face pale but determined. "The bad man is coming for me?"

"Yes, princess," Marsh admitted. "But he'll have to go through both your parents first."

As if on cue, alarms began to sound throughout the building. Marsh moved to a concealed panel in the wall, revealing a cache of weapons. He handed me a tactical vest and began arming himself.

"I need to get to the security center," he said. "Take Luna to the panic room. Code is your birthday."

My birthday again. Always my birthday.

As he turned to leave, a doctor rushed in—someone I didn't recognize.

"Mr. Marsh, you called for medical assistance?" the man asked, moving toward Luna with a professional smile. "Hello there, little one. Not feeling well?"

Luna shrank back against me. "I don't like doctors."

"It's okay, sweetheart," the man said, opening his medical bag. "Just a quick check to see what's wrong."

I noticed Marsh tense slightly, his hand moving toward his weapon. "I don't recall specifying which medical team to send," he said carefully.

The doctor's smile never wavered. "Emergency protocol. I was closest." He withdrew a stethoscope. "Now, young lady, let's listen to your heart."

Luna's eyes widened in sudden understanding. With surprising speed, she grabbed her water cup from the bedside table and threw it in the man's face. "You're not a real doctor! Your stethoscope tube is too short!"

The man's friendly demeanor vanished instantly. He lunged for Luna, but Marsh was faster, tackling him to the ground. They struggled briefly before Marsh gained the upper hand, his forearm pressing into the fake doctor's throat.

"Who sent you?" Marsh demanded. "Thomas?"

The man spat in response. Marsh applied more pressure, and the man's face began to turn purple.

"Marsh, stop," I said sharply. "We need him alive for information."

Reluctantly, Marsh eased up, keeping the man pinned. "Talk."

"Too late," the man gasped, a strange smile spreading across his face. "The package... is already... delivered."

I noticed a small device on the floor—something that had fallen from the fake doctor's bag. A transmitter.

"Marsh," I said urgently. "We need to move. Now."

He glanced at the device and cursed, knocking the man unconscious with a precise blow. "He's just a distraction. The real attack is coming."

Luna, still pale but no longer vomiting, straightened her shoulders. "What do we do, Daddy?"

Marsh looked at our daughter—this extraordinary, terrifying child we'd created—and made a decision I could see him forming in real-time.

"We fight," he said simply. "Together. As a family."


Similar Recommendations