Moretti Tower. The Penthouse. Three Years Later."No, Papa. The bear sits here."I paused in the doorway of the living room, leaning against the doorframe, a warm cup of coffee in my hands.The undisputed King of Wall Street, the man who had dismantled a Sicilian syndicate and brought the federal government to its knees, was currently sitting cross-legged on a plush Persian rug. He was wearing a custom-tailored charcoal suit, but his tie was discarded on the sofa, and he was holding a tiny, chipped porcelain teacup.Across from him sat Elena.She was three years old, a whirlwind of dark curls and fierce, uncompromising opinions. She wore a tulle princess dress over a pair of denim overalls, a sartorial choice she had aggressively negotiated that morning."My apologies, Principessa," Lorenzo said, his deep, rumbling voice completely devoid of its usual boardroom edge. He carefully moved a stuffed brown bea
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