The grandfather clock in the hallway chimed eleven times, its deep bronze notes echoing through the quiet penthouse. Dario didn’t look up from the stack of reports spread across his mahogany desk. Numbers, projections, territory maps, incident reports from three different cities. The Santos empire didn’t sleep, and neither, it seemed, did he.His home office was his sanctuary, all dark wood and leather-bound books, with floor-to-ceiling windows that offered a commanding view of Northshore’s glittering skyline. Usually, the space brought him peace. Tonight, it felt like a war room. The shipping manifest from the Drosvane port needed his approval. The territorial dispute in Thavos required delicate handling. The vandalism in Velmora demanded swift retaliation. Each decision carried weight, rippling outward through an organization that touched every corner of the eastern seaboard.Dario rubbed his temples, feeling the familiar ache that had become his constant companion over the pas
Last Updated : 2025-09-09 Read more