Luca’s POV
I step out of my car onto the cobbled street, the morning sunlight bouncing off the high windows, and I can already feel it.
Something is off. The city smells like coffee, pastries, and panic all rolled together, and it is not mine. Not yet.
My phone buzzes violently in my pocket. Again. I pull it out, my fingers brushing against the leather case, and see the first headline: “EXPOSED: LUCA DE SANTIS’ HIDDEN ACCOUNTS—OFFSHORE SHELL COMPANIES, BRIBES, FRAUD.” I laugh, a short, sharp sound that does not reach my eyes, because I know who did this. I know the invisible fingers that ripped open my empire before my coffee even cooled.
I glance around at the street, at the people passing by, at the newsstands where his name is printed large and red and humiliating. A small part of
