Michael Corleone listened while others spoke.
That alone told Luke everything he needed to know.
The men around the table talked about territories, percentages, "protection," and old grievances that refused to die. They spoke in the coded language of power—never naming crimes, never admitting violence, yet implying both with every pause.
Luke said nothing.
Michael Corleone's authority did not come from dominance in conversation. It came from the fact that when he did speak, decisions followed.
Luke let the meeting end naturally.
Only when the room emptied did he finally lean back, fingers interlaced, gaze fixed on the polished surface of the table.
Part III, he thought. This is where it all breaks.
The late seventies were not the old days. Power no longer lived only in guns and street loyalty. It had moved—into banks, into corporations, into politics dressed as respectability.
Michael had understood that.
Too late.
Luke's thoughts sharpened, aligning into strategy.
Legitimacy was not an exit.
It was a transformation.
If the Corleone family simply abandoned crime, they would be devoured by rivals, betrayed by allies, or prosecuted by governments eager to make an example of them. Criminal organizations only survived transitions when they disguised retreat as expansion.
The family would not leave the underworld.
It would outgrow it.
Luke stood and moved to the window. Outside, the compound was immaculate, insulated from consequence.
Physical power, he thought first.
It was still necessary.
Violence could not disappear overnight. But it could be narrowed—redirected away from profit and toward containment. He would reduce exposure, isolate volatile factions, and quietly remove those incapable of adapting. Loyalty mattered less than control.
That would keep the streets quiet.
Political influence, next.
By 1979, politicians were no longer merely bribed. They were invested in. Campaigns, foundations, construction contracts. The Corleones had always paid politicians.
Luke would make them partners.
A senator who benefited from Corleone-backed infrastructure didn't want the family destroyed. He wanted them clean enough to stay useful.
And then—
High finance.
This was the keystone.
Michael's mistake had been placing too much faith in institutions he didn't control—most notably the Vatican Bank. Legitimacy through finance required leverage on both sides of the deal.
Luke would not beg for acceptance.
He would buy influence quietly, through shell corporations, real estate, and international holdings. Casinos, shipping, import-export—industries where money moved fast and accountability moved slowly.
By the time the world noticed, the Corleones would already be indispensable.
But strategy alone was not enough.
Luke's expression darkened.
Family was the real battlefield.
Fredo was alive—still resentful, still fragile. Luke would not humiliate him. Humiliation bred betrayal. Fredo needed purpose, distance from power, and the illusion of autonomy.
A controlled role.A harmless one.
As for Kay—
Luke closed his eyes briefly.
She was the moral mirror Michael could never escape. If she remained distant, the family would always fracture from within. But truth, offered too suddenly, would drive her away forever.
Legitimacy had to precede reconciliation.
Only then could Michael say, truthfully, that the bloodshed was ending.
And Mary—
Luke's hand tightened slightly on the window frame.
Everything revolved around her survival.
No visible enemies. No grand gestures. Protection without spectacle. Luke would never let her become a symbol. Symbols were targets.
The System's interface shimmered faintly, as if registering the clarity of his intent.
No prompts.
No warnings.
Just quiet acknowledgment.
Luke straightened, adjusting his cufflinks—Michael's habitual gesture before difficult decisions.
This was not a single battle.
It was a decades-long game played across boardrooms, churches, courts, and bloodlines.
Michael Corleone had tried to escape his fate.
Luke would rewrite it.
And for the first time since entering this world, he understood the true cost of a "Good Life"—
Not survival.
Not power.
But restraint.