I was halfway through dessert at Giovanni Marchetti’s estate when the first gunshot shattered that evening.
One moment, I was seated beneath a glittering chandelier pretending to enjoy lemon custard while enduring another suffocating family dinner. The next, chaos exploded around me.
The Marchetti estate was exactly what I had expected from one of the most powerful families in Italy—lavish, intimidating, and meticulously designed to remind guests who held power. Gold-trimmed walls towered above us, candlelight reflected against crystal glasses, and servants moved silently between the long dining table carrying expensive wine and untouched courses.
It should have felt elegant.
Instead, it felt like sitting inside a beautifully decorated battlefield.
On one side of the table sat members
