Proposal of Blood and Betrayal
The Moretti family dining hall was not merely a room; it was a mausoleum of beautiful, gilded tension. The colossal, dark mahogany table stretched across the floor like a battlefield, reflecting the icy, fractured light of the crystal chandeliers overhead. This light, meant to signify prosperity, only illuminated the cold steel in the eyes of the men who filled the space. I moved between them, framed by the intimidating, perfectly tailored presence of my foster brothers, Marco and Santino. For twenty years, they had been the twin constants of my impossible life—the formidable shields against a world that wanted me dead, the guardians of my fragile, civilian heart. They were my everything. An
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