The Zuppa all'Omertà

Rosalba Marchesi stood in the long, shadowed corridor, her cold gaze locked on the heavy mahogany doors of her own home office. The polished wood seemed to mock her. She hated being shut out. She hated the silence. For over thirty years, she had known every whisper, every backroom deal, every drop of blood spilled in the name of the Marchesi family. Now, her eldest son was barricaded inside with a