The day the Don found me in the slums, he announced to the whole family that I would be its only heir.Too bad I inherited none of the Norman family's head for numbers.When I was eight, the Don started teaching me how to run the family's underground business.He taught me for more than a month, but I still didn't understand a thing about gun running or drug deals.The Don shook his head, at a loss.The next day, he sent Oliver, the advisor he'd trained himself, to help me.Oliver was five years older than me, and you could tell right away that he was sharp.He knew the docks, the drug trade, and the arms trade inside out.Whenever I wanted to slack off, I'd push all the books onto him.So the Don simply set a rule.The advisor would serve one year at a time. His appointment would expire the night before the annual meeting, and only a stamp from the golden lion seal could renew it for another year.And just like that, ten years flew by.Every year, Oliver came to me with the master led
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