The Grand Ballroom of the Vane Estate was a vision of dark, suffocating luxury.
Hundreds of black velvet banners lined the towering marble walls, embroidered in silver thread with the Vane double-headed dragon. Crystal chandeliers hung low from the gilded ceiling, casting a warm, amber glow over the sea of dark tuxedos, silk gowns, and ice-carved family crests.
Every power player in the country was in attendance. Political figures, shipping magnates, and every surviving Don of the Northern and Southern syndicates gathered under one roof. The public humiliation of Valentina Moretti and the total collapse of her family's influence had sent a clear message: the old era was dead.
I stood on the second-floor balcony overlooking the ballroom, wearing a fitted, off-the-shoulder emerald velvet
