{FRANCESCO}
It took Marco and his men less than thirty minutes to turn my wedding into a fucking warzone. We could have easily avoided if it wasn't for some fucked up sentiments about old times and tradition. And as the future don of the Giacomo family, I had to respect these age long rules as if they were the only sacred laws, or rather, the only laws that applied to us. But these laws didn't bring peace. They only brought bloodshed.
No one in their right senses would invite known enemies, snakes into their homes, but, according to the tradition, I couldn't turn away those at the top of the food chain. I was expected to welcome them with open arms even though I knew they had an ulterior motive. I had to treat them well as if I needed their presence to sanction my marriage. As if I needed their fucking approval to know my actual strength. As if I needed then to witness and acknowledge that I met the requirements in my grandfather's will.
