polished mahogany table. His presence filled the room-sharp as a blade, cold as the marble floor beneath his bespoke leather shoes. At thirty-two, he was a force of nature, a billionaire whose name

uld dismantle Rossi Enterprises, a rival company that had dared to challenge his empire. The contract was a death sentence, and he delivered it

leaned back in his chair, the document sliding across the table toward his chief couns

ing on a young executive whose tie was slightly askew. Paolo, his name was. New. Ambiti

ng with quiet menace. "Your report on t

ched, clutching a folder as if it were a lifel

e icy. "I don't pay for projections. I pay f

I'll make it right, M

u'll deliver the revised report to Damiano by midnight, or you'll be out o

o, Vincenzo's assistant, stood by the door, a shadow in a tailored suit. At twenty-nine, Damiano was an enigma-calm, calculating, with eyes t

eir feet, filing out like soldiers retreating from a battlefi

t there was an edge to it, a hint of the "sane psy

sn't waste my time again. And check on t

lready typing. "C

spanned tech, real estate, and shipping, a web of power that made him untouchable. Yet, as he stood alone, his fingers brushed the cufflink on his left sleeve-a

that would have shocked his board. Alessio, his eight-year-old son, stood in the doorway, clutching a broken toy

, undeterred by the office'

d thought. He took the car, inspecting the cracke

epentant. "It's fast

tti, his billionaire friend who built luxury cars, would no do

g close, his chatter filling the room with warmth. For these brief minutes, Vincenzo was not the ruthless titan o

id, handing the car

ll arms tight around hi

he gesture tender but restrained.

de-a reserved man of forty-five with the bearing of a former intelligence operative. His

e grasp. A woman's face, fleeting and faceless, from a night eight years ago. A club in Palermo, a moment of reckless

Damiano re-entered, his tablet now tucked away. "Sir, the N

d friend, was as ruthless as he was loyal. Together with Alessandro, they

ed his head. "

to him, then back to t

lan was his domain, Alessio his heart, his enemies his fuel. But the cufflink, a relic of a

lan had no tim