Nevio's POV
The drive to the old man's house was a quiet one; no one, not even Nestore, said a word, and the driver's face was stuck on the wheel as though looking back would get him killed.
"Time to meet our dearest father," Nestore said as the car pulled up to the estate's driveway.
"Mr. Nestore, Mr. Nevio," Our father's right-hand man called as we stepped out of the car.
"What the f**k was so urgent that I had to leave what I was doing to come here," I growled, my jaw tightening as I took the stairs inside the house.
The halls smelled the same—old wood, expensive cologne, and god-damned memories that played with every step I took forward.
I hated this place, hated every single thing about it.
The old man was in the sitting room; beside him was a man who looked like he had aged p
