Damian stood before the massive floor-to-ceiling glass window in his penthouse, gazing at the glittering city below. The streetlights and car headlights shone like distant stars. He gazed at his reflection, seeing a man shaped by his past. His eyes looked tired, burdened by decisions.
His mind was racing, calculating, plotting and weighing the risks. Leaving the mafia was never simple. Breaking the oath; the vow of Omertà - born in blood, sworn in blood, came with a price that would haunt him like a shadow.
Then, a soft knock pulled him from his thoughts.
“Come in,” Damian’s calm voice echoed in the room.
The door swung open, and a man entered, his crisp white shirt neatly ironed, glasses balanced on the bridge of his nose.
"Mr. Jacob," Damian greeted, offering a firm handshake, tho
