25 Years Ago
The news of Pacifico Belmonte's death had spread quickly, rippling through the circles of power and wealth where his influence had long cast shadows. To the world, he had been a formidable businessman—ruthless, calculating, revered. But to Wile, he had been something else entirely.
He stood now at the edge of a grand funeral hall, his fingers curled into fists at his sides.
The wake was extravagant, as expected. Expensive floral arrangements lined the entrance, a sea of white lilies and roses masking the suffocating scent of incense. Inside, guests murmured in hushed tones, their expressions somber—but Wile knew better.
Many of them weren’t grieving. They were calculating. Watching. Waiting to see how he would respond to his father’s passing.
Gumamela stood beside him, he
