Vittorio was sitting in his lavish office, surrounded by the marks of his power. Associates lined up, each presenting him with various business proposals and problems that only he, as the Don, Capo di tutti Capo, could solve. However, as they spoke, their words seemed distant, becoming a background hum. His thoughts were not on negotiations or disputes, but on memory: the image of Ellis Smith's lips pressed against his in a stolen moment near his son's school.

He would trade all these ...