Antonio’s POV

The room buzzed with the noise of festivity—joyful laughter, clinking glasses, and the murmur of triumph. My team filled the grand hall, their voices echoing as they celebrated our success. The aroma of costly cigars hung in the air, blending with the subtle hints of whiskey and perspiration. I remained at the front of the room, observing them, a slight smile on my lips.

"Another toast!" one of my comrades shouted, lifting his glass aloft.

“To Antonio Russo!” The ...