The announcement was deliberate.
Public.
Irreversible.
Michael Corleone stood at the head of the long conference table, sunlight cutting through the tall windows of the Manhattan office. Lawyers, bankers, senior family members—men and women who now wore tailored suits instead of guns—waited in silence.
This was not a family meeting.
This was a board meeting.
Michael's voice was calm when he spoke.
"Effective immediately," he said, "Vincent Mancini will oversee all remaining street-level operations."
A pause.
Then the words that mattered most:
"He will act independently. My involvement ends at the boardroom."
The room reacted in layers.
Relief—from the bankers.Calculation—from the lawyers.Alarm—from the old soldiers.
Vincent, seated midway down the table, straightened slowly. His expression flickered—surprise, pride, restraint—all quickly buried beneath discipline.
Michael looked at him.
Not with affection.
With trust.
Outside the room, the underworld heard a different story.
Michael Corleone was retiring further.Michael Corleone was ceding power.Michael Corleone was hiding behind his nephew.
And that was exactly the point.
Luke watched the narrative form like ripples in water.
This was the Shield.
Vincent Mancini—hot-blooded, visible, dangerous—would absorb the attention, the rumors, the provocations. Anyone looking to test the Corleones would look there.
Not here.
Not at the man whose name now appeared only on documents, boards, and foundations.
The System acknowledged the move.
[Narrative Realignment Detected]Public Identity Shift: CompleteRisk Displacement: SuccessfulKarma Gained: +120 (Strategic Delegation, Narrative Buffering)
That evening, Michael met Vincent alone.
No witnesses. No advisors.
"You don't answer to me," Michael said. "You answer to the future."
Vincent frowned. "That sounds like a trap."
Michael almost smiled.
"It's a responsibility," he replied. "One I no longer carry."
Vincent nodded slowly.
He would protect the name—even if he never fully understood why the name no longer wanted protection.
Later, alone again, Luke let Michael's body rest.
And thought.
The underworld was contained.The financial empire was clean.The family—fractured, but alive.
What remained was influence without blood.
Luke's gaze lifted beyond crime families and casino boards.
Politics.
Not speeches.
Leverage.
Boards became committees.Foundations became policy channels.Donations became doors.
If crime had once ruled by fear, legitimacy ruled by regulation.
And regulation ruled everything.
The System responded softly, like a door opening somewhere far away.
[Karma Store — New Category Unlocked]• Political Acumen (Basic → Advanced)• Institutional Influence• Public Persona Stabilization• Long-Term Narrative Control
Luke did not buy anything yet.
Power gained too quickly always demanded repayment.
But for the first time since entering the World of Remorse, he saw the next evolution clearly.
Michael Corleone would not die alone.
He would outlive his enemies.
Not as a Don.
But as a man whose signature reshaped the city.
Outside, New York's lights burned endlessly.
And somewhere between the streets and the senate floors, a new kind of empire began to take form.