[Elena's POV]

My mom stepped into the stone courtyard. She wore a simple beige trench coat, carrying a single leather tote bag.

The Viti perimeter guards parted, letting her through without a single weapon check.

Don Viti stood up from the head of the table. His silver cane hit the stone floor. He looked like an old, exhausted man staring at a ghost.

"Jane," Don Viti breathed. His voice cracked.

My mother dropped her bag. She walked forward and wrapped her arms around her father. The old don ...