Luca POV
The city was loud outside my windows.
Sirens. Traffic. Voices raised in outrage and excitement and fear. San Verità had always loved spectacle, and tonight it was gorging itself on mine.
I let it.
Inside the penthouse, there was only silence.
I stood barefoot on polished stone, a glass of untouched whiskey resting on the edge of my desk. The screens along the far wall glowed softly market graphs, frozen assets, news banners cycling the same tired phrases.
DE SANTIS EMPIRE UNDER SCRUTINY.
FINANCIAL IRREGULARITIES EXPOSED.
MISSING FIANCÉE STILL AT LARGE.
Old information.
I had known about the freezes before the banks announced them. I had known which allies would defect before they rehearsed their press statements in front of mirrors. Fear made men predictable. So did gree
