Six years had passed.
I was thirty and the undisputed captain of the Conti family.
Father had fully abdicated, retreating to his villa on Lake Como to fish and retire in peace.
Every facet of Conti—both the public empire and the hidden famiglia—was under my control.
No one dared disagree.
Today was my formal ascension ceremony.
My ten brothers had been obedient for almost a decade.
Marco, my eldest, was now my personal driver, driving impeccably.
Lorenzo was my private chef, his knife steadier than a scalpel.
Dante carried bags and coats, always on call.
Rafael managed cybersecurity, twenty-four seven.
"Marco, where’s the car?"
I stepped out, expressionless.
Marco opened the door and bowed ninety-five degrees.
"Donna, it’s ready. 24.5°C, your cigar scissors are prepared, seat
