Three hours after Lucien went missing.
"WHAT DO YOU MEAN LUCIEN IS NOT ON THE BOAT?!"
Salvatore's furious voice echoed through the drawing room like a thunderclap. He slammed the table so hard that a photo frame of him and his grandsons toppled over, the glass clinking against the wood.
Veins bulged at his temples: not only from anger, but from the gnawing anxiety in his chest.
Lucien's plan was far too reckless for him to stomach. The Don could have simply crushed his enemies with brute force: killed his treacherous stepbrother, declared war on Dominus and Lunox, and been done with it.
He was certain Luceros would never lose. Those rival groups were nothing but grains of salt compared to their power.
But when his grandson showed him the documents exposing Vincent's betrayal, there had been something in his eyes… that quiet determination, that pain. His voice may have been steady, his posture calm, but his eyes had told the truth.
'Eyes never lie.'
