Victor’s POV La Camorra called an urgent meeting this morning. By the time I arrived, nearly every man was already there. Every chair was occupied. Every voice was lowered. Every face carried the same expression—curiosity pretending to be concern. Only one seat remained empty. Don Epifanio’s. And honestly, I understood why. A man like him—one who had spent decades building his name on discipline, reputation, and control—does not simply walk into a room full of men after becoming the subject of their quiet laughter overnight. Respect, once cracked in this world, never returns whole. Still, his absence didn’t surprise me. What surprised me— was Alessandro. He arrived not long after I did. With Damian beside him. I studied him carefully as he walked in. No hesitation. No visible anger. No shame. No alcohol on his breath. No signs of collapse. For a brief moment, I had expected something different. A man in his position usually disappears for a few days. Usually d
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