“You’re not drinking, brother,” Juan whispered, smirking.

An hour later, the cardinal clutched his throat. His eyes widened—first in confusion, then in betrayal. He collapsed at the feet of the Pope, who sighed and made the sign of the cross without a moment’s hesitation.

Rodrigo Borgia had taught his children many things. Cesare learned to smile while holding a blade. Lucrezia learned to weep on command. And Juan—well, Juan had learned only to reach for what he wanted and never look back.

“Father?”