11Rosa’s POV
The room was alive with muted laughter and the hum of low conversations, the clinking of glasses underscoring the melody of a live string quartet tucked into the far corner. These events were always the same—syndicate families gathered under the guise of camaraderie, but everyone was watching, calculating, angling for a sliver of power.
I’d attended these events for years, long enough to know every handshake, every fake smile, and every whispered word carried an undertone. Tonight was no different, but it felt different, at least to me.
I glanced over at Allesio, standing a few feet away, the dark suit he wore clinging to his frame like it was made just for him. He looked sharp, polished, and effortlessly confident, the kind of man who drew attention without even trying. M
