The entire estate fell silent. Even the wind rushing through the shattered stained-glass windows seemed to halt in awe.Massimo Dimitri—older, his hair streaked with silver, a faint white scar crossing his left cheek, but bearing those same cold, piercing grey eyes—stood beside the vintage Rolls-Royce.Rosa covered her mouth, her legs buckling as Lorrie caught her before she hit the floor. "Massimo...""Hello, Rosa," he whispered, his voice thick with uncharacteristic emotion.Lorenzo couldn't move. For twenty years, he had mourned this man, built an empire in his shadow, fought brutal wars, and carried every burden alone. Now, his father stood just a few paces away.When Massimo offered a sad, tentative smile and murmured, "My son," Lorenzo's jaw clenched."Don't," Lorenzo spat, his voice shaking with two decades of buried rage. "You don't get to call me that. You let me bury an empty coffin. You let me carry everything alone. When I needed my father... where were you?"Massimo didn'
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