The Mafia's Adopted Princess
He didn't want to come across as a bad guy.
At exactly 6:30 a.m., we were packed in the car and pulling out of the driveway.
The sun hadn't fully risen yet, and golden streaks colored the edges of the sky. I sat in the back seat with my earphones in, staring out the window, watching the city give way to wide highways and trees.
Three hours later, we pulled into the driveway of Adam's Cultural Center.
And my heart stopped.
The building was majestic-a tall, crystalline structure of glass and steel, glistening like a palace in the morning light. The compound was sprawling, clean, and busy. Families walked in with children who looked like they had been groomed for this moment their entire lives.
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