The next few weeks were a blur. I wasn’t Leo the street rat anymore. I was Leo Moretti, the son. But the real learning happened at night, in Daddy’s room. He taught me how to be the perfect toy for him. Tonight was my first test. I was meeting the rest of the men. The capos, the soldiers, the men who killed for Daddy. We were in a big room that smelled of cigars and sweat. The men were rough, with scarred faces and hard eyes. They all got quiet and stood up straight when Daddy walked in, with me right behind him. “Gentlemen,” Daddy’s voice filled the room. “This is my son, Leo.” The men all started talking quietly. Their eyes looked at me, with curiosity, with doubt, and with a raw, hungry look. They knew. They all knew what “son” really meant. I could feel their eyes on the gold collar on my neck, showing everyone I was owned. “Leo has a lot to learn,” Daddy said, his voice getting hard. “But he’s smart. He’s strong. And he has my trust. You will treat him like you treat me. Got i
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