William's POV My shoes clicked against the tiled floor as the men pushed me forward. Outwardly, I was calm, my expression unreadable. But inside, my mind burned with quiet fury. The room was a large hall. There were overhead bulbs that buzzed and flickered. At the centre of the hall, there was a long table weighed down with platters of food: roasted chicken, bowls of olives, slabs of bread, and red wine in crystal glass At the head of the table sat a man who looked every bit of an ex-convict.Diego Santos. He tore into a lamb leg like he had no other care in the world. The oil greased his lips and chin, but his eyes remained sharp, watchful as they locked on mine.“Ah,” Diego said as he lifted a wine glass in a toast, “The prodigal brother returns,”I did nothing. Said nothing. I did not bow or smile. I kept my shoulders square and voice flat as I spoke, “Diego,”He said, “Come. Sit. Eat.” He said, gesturing broadly as if he was welcoming an honoured guest to a family feast. “Th
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