Alessandro’s POV The visit to the club wasn’t just one night. It became many. Not just one club either—but different ones, scattered across Genoa, each louder and darker than the last. At first, I thought Matteo was simply indulging, living the reckless life of a man who believed tomorrow was never guaranteed. But after the third club, then the fourth, I began to notice a pattern. Men in suits. They always came looking for Matteo. Sometimes it was two of them, sometimes three, always sharp-looking, always out of place in rooms that smelled of sweat, smoke, and cheap alcohol. Most times, one of them carried a briefcase. The kind that never left their hand. The kind you didn’t ask questions about. I didn’t need anyone to explain it to me. The men in suits were Matteo’s buyers—the ones he sold his own share of Coke to. Sometimes, Matteo and the main boss of the night would talk privately, leaning close, voices low. Other times, the negotiation had already been done, and the men
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