Chapter 95

The old man, Don Enzo, nodded but didn’t break stride. “Tell them my son, and I will be ready in thirty minutes,” he instructed, his voice carrying the weight of authority. “I need to speak with my son first.”

The heavy wooden doors of the carriage house opened, and Don Enzo stepped out into the crisp afternoon air. His son Marco followed close behind, squinting as the setting sun cast long shado