The restaurant glowed with crystal chandeliers and hushed power. A private dining hall reserved for titans of industry, the kind of place where wars were waged behind fine wine and imported cigars. Tonight, the Rossi board gathered here for what was supposed to be a dinner of diplomacy. Instead, it simmered with unspoken tension.

Elena sat at the far end of the table, shoulders squared, every muscle taut. She could feel Alessia's gaze like a knife against her skin. Dante sat between them, ...