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Giacomo Conte, who oversees our legitimate businesses is next. He's young blood, ambitious, with an MBA from Harvard and a kill count that matches his net worth.

The DiMarco brothers are last, and before me, there are four men whose loyalty has been tested and proven through years of service to my father, and now, to me.

Nico sits at my right hand, Alessio at my left. A trinity of power that represents the new order.

"Gentlemen," I begin, allowing the weight of my voice to fill the room. "My father's passing marks the end of an era. But the Ravelli empire stands strong."

Murmurs of agreement ripple around the table, eyes carefully assessing the ring now displayed on my hand.

"Changes will come," I continue, "but not to our core principles. Loyalty will be rewarded. Betrayal punished swiftly and without mercy."

The all nod, but the question everyone wants answered hangs in the air like gunsmoke.

I understand.

This is the first test of my leadership… how I handle the family betrayal that has fractured our ranks.

"After careful surveillance, I confirm with finality, that my brother, Dante Ravelli, has made his choice." I lock eyes with each of the men before me. "Dante has aligned himself with our enemies. With the Volkovs."

Nico places a folder on the table, opening it to reveal surveillance photos. Dante entering a private airfield. Dante shaking hands with Demyan Volkov. Dante surrounded by Russian muscle, looking over his shoulder like the hunted animal he's become.

"As we speak, he moves against us," Nico explains. "Our sources confirm he's been feeding information to the Volkovs for months. The warehouse attacks. The security breaches. All orchestrated to weaken us during my father's illness. All orchestrated in a way to claim the Ravelli empire."

The captains exchange glances, absorbing the implications.

Without my having to say it explicitly, they understand what comes next.

What must come next.

"Blood is sacred," I say, tracing the signet ring with my thumb. "Family is sacred. But loyalty to the Ravelli name supersedes both."

I look each man in the eye, one by one, ensuring they understand exactly what I'm declaring.

"Dante Ravelli is now an enemy of this family. Of my family. He is to be found and brought before me.Alive."

The emphasis on the last word sends a shiver through the room. These men, hardened by decades in our world, know exactly what awaits my brother when he's found.

A slow death. A message written in blood and screams.

"In the meantime," I continue, "we strengthen our position. Secure our territories. Prepare for whatever the Volkovs might attempt next."

Giacomo nods thoughtfully. "And the coronation ceremony, sir? The other families will expect a formal presentation."

"Two weeks from now," I decide. "Time enough to ensure security is impeccable, but not so long that our transition appears uncertain."

The meeting continues, discussions of territory and business flowing around the table. Reports are presented. Strategies suggested. Questions answered with the authority that now rests on my shoulders along with the ring that proclaims my sovereignty.

Throughout it all, I feel my father's presence—not as a ghost to be feared anymore, but as a shadow to be surpassed. Every decision I make carries the weight of comparison. Every order given measures against what he would have done.

But I am not Vito Ravelli.

I will rule differently.

***

Night falls over the estate like a velvet shroud, and I stand at the window of our bedroom, watching security patrols move across the grounds.

Behind me, the door opens quietly. Bianca enters, her reflection appearing in the window glass like an apparition. She's changed from her funeral blacks into a silk robe that glows ivory in the moonlight, her hair loose around her shoulders.