The Commission hearing took place in a heavily guarded neutral warehouse on the industrial docks, the kind of place where power was decided in blood and whispers rather than boardrooms. Aria sat beside Dante at the long table, her back straight and her hands folded tightly in her lap to hide their slight tremble. The air was thick with cigar smoke, expensive cologne, and barely contained tension. Powerful dons from across the East Coast watched her with calculating eyes — some curious, some dismissive, many openly hostile. Crystal chandeliers hung from the high ceiling, casting harsh light over armed guards lining the walls.
Dante’s large hand rested possessively on her thigh beneath the table, his thumb stroking slow, reassuring circles. “Stay calm,” he murmured, his deep voice low enoug
