Lorenzo’s Stand.
Lorenzo's muscles tensed in barely controlled rage as he barged into Antonio's private room. Long shadows were created by the faint lighting flickering against the stone walls, reflecting the growing distance between father and son. Antonio sat at the large wood desk with his fingers curled under his chin and an expression that was impossible to read.
With a stern yet hushed voice, Lorenzo stated, "We need to talk."
Antonio furrowed his forehead, not impressed by his son's passion. "This must be about Isabella."
Lorenzo struck the desk with his palms. "You make a good assumption. You are aware of the false nature of this trial. You refuse to challenge the evidence because it supports your agenda, even though it was fabricated.
Although Antonio's jaw trembled, he maint
