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"Build her a life better than the one we failed to give her," Antonio says.

"I will," I vow.

Leaving the estate, I feel lighter and freer now that the final piece has fallen into place.

When I return home later that afternoon, Isadora greets me at the door, her eyes searching mine.

"How did your meeting go?" she asks.

"Fine," I say, brushing a kiss against her forehead. "Exactly as it needed to."

I don't tell her where I went because some things are better revealed at the right time.

And the right time is coming soon.

The morning of my first major meeting as the new leader arrives, crisp and clear, with the air carrying a sense of promise I haven't felt in years.

In the conference room, the Ricci family and several other key allies gather around the polished table, murmuring among themselves. Vittorio stands silently behind me, his eyes not missing anything in the room. Matteo and Rocco are her too.

I take my seat at the head of the table and begin outlining the future we are building together—a future where loyalty is earned, not bought, and power is shared among those strong enough to carry it.

The men listen intently, nodding in agreement, but a subtle tension hangs in the air. They need reassurance. They need to see that the past is truly behind us.

“While I do not doubt you have the ability to lead this organization, we would like to know why De Angelis is not here,” Ricci states his concern.

There is a ripple of murmured agreement across the table.

“This is true. We do not want to build a new legacy where there is strife already.”

Just as I am about to address their concern, the doors open, and all conversation dies.

Antonio De Angelis strides into the room.

A wave of shock moves through the assembled families. His name still carries weight, his presence still demands respect.

Antonio walks in with the kind of calm that comes from knowing exactly who he is. He meets my gaze, nods once, and takes an empty seat. His posture is proud and unyielding.

I don't need to say a word. His presence says everything.

"I stand with Stefano Calviño," he says, his voice ringing out across the room. "My loyalty, my support, and the De Angelis legacy are his to command."

The effect is immediate.

The Riccis exchange glances, nodding. The tension eases from the room like air escaping a balloon. My position, already strong, solidifies into something unshakable.

The meeting continues smoothly after that, the final agreements falling into place with no resistance.

After the final point is settled and hands are shaken, I stand. "If you'll excuse us, Antonio and I have a few matters to discuss."

He follows me into my office without hesitation, and I close the door behind us.

He takes a seat opposite my desk, one leg crossed, eyes assessing. Not hostile. Just sharp.

"You surprised me," I say, pouring two glasses of whiskey.

"That was the point," he replies with a smirk.

I hand him a glass, then take my seat. "You said I had your blessing when I visited. But that—what you did out there—that was more than having your blessing. That was passing your legacy down to me."