The silence was suffocating.
Every gaze in the room was fixed on Elliot. Lindsey's eyes trembled—fear etched across her face. Sitting before her was not just some young man, but the heir to the most dangerous figure in the city. The Elliot she had seen laughing in a café was gone; in his place sat someone colder, heavier, untouchable.
Ella, however, was only confused. She didn't yet know the name Don Salvador, but instinct told her that whoever this man was, he wasn't ordinary.
"Wh-who… is he?" she asked, stammering.
"You don't know him?" Lindsey gasped, nearly screaming in disbelief.
"Yeah…" Ella managed with an awkward smile.
"Stop screaming. You're hurting my ears," Elliot muttered, irritation flickering across his face.
Anna's voice cut through the air like a blade. "He's the king of the underworld. The true owner of this city."
Ella frowned. "So… he's in politics?"
Elliot lit his cigarette, his voice low and sharp, each word deliberate.
"My father owns it all. Politicians, judges, lawyers, police, detectives… they're all in his pocket. His word is law. His actions are justice. He alone is the law of this land."
The words sank into Ella like ice water. Who is this man I'm drawn to? Why does he attract me like a flame pulling in a moth—even though I know it will burn me?
The silence pressed down again, broken only by faint music drifting up from below. Then the door opened.
A man entered—tall, sharply dressed, posture perfect, expression calm. His presence alone demanded respect.
"What is it, D?" Elliot asked.
"Young master, you have a call." D handed him a phone, bowing with quiet precision. Then, almost casually, he greeted, "And how are you, Miss Anna?"
Anna rolled her eyes, annoyed by his polished charm.
"Yes, Father," Elliot said into the phone, his tone shifting to one of restraint. Everyone froze. Why would Don Salvador himself be calling now?
"Yes… I understand. I'll handle it." Elliot leaned back, eyes on the ceiling, a smirk tugging at his lips.
"D, get the men ready. We'll have a visitor soon."
Anna pulled Ella to her feet. "We're leaving."
"You shouldn't," Elliot said flatly. "Williams' men are already outside. This started because of you."
"I'll handle it. You don't need to worry." Anna's voice carried more fury than fear.
"Hey… maybe we should wait until Elliot deals with it," Lindsey whispered, trying—and failing—to mask the quiver in her voice.
"Yes, it would be safer here," D said with a faint smile. "Too dangerous outside for three ladies."
Anna's jaw tightened. "We'll be fine. I can take care of it."
"Why risk it?" Lindsey pressed.
"Because things will get worse now that Elliot's involved. That look on his face…" she glanced at him, "it's the one he makes when something bad is coming."
Elliot smirked faintly. "You know me so well, Anna. I'm touched."
"But you should stay," he said firmly. "Williams' men are already moving."
Anna faltered. She knew she couldn't protect Ella and Lindsey alone. Reluctantly, she stayed.
The door creaked open again. A figure stepped in from the shadows—tall, commanding, an aura radiating danger. He was young, but his presence was sharp, cutting through the air like a blade.
"How you doing, you fucker?"
"Better than you, you bitch," Elliot replied without hesitation.
Ella's heart skipped. Who dares talk to Elliot like that?
The figure moved forward, face still hidden by the glare from the doorway. When the light dimmed, a man in his twenties emerged—sunglasses indoors, cigarette between his fingers, stride slow but deliberate. For a heartbeat, it looked like Elliot would rip him apart… but then, to everyone's shock, they clasped hands firmly and broke into smiles.
"When did you get back?" Elliot asked.
"Just a few hours ago."
"Who's he?" Lindsey whispered.
Ella's curiosity burned. The only one who could speak to Elliot this way…
"It's Andrea Morreti," D announced.
"I'm Elliot's best friend," Andrea said casually, almost carelessly.
"You're from the Morreti family?" Lindsey's voice was hushed.
"Yeah."
The name itself carried weight. The Morretis—the empire of trade. They owned the docks, the imports, the exports; every shipment that entered or left the south passed under their watch. Unlike others, they weren't enemies of the Salvadors—they were allies. Bound by blood and business, they stood as the second most dangerous family in the city, their reach stretching beyond borders, across governments and nations. Salvador and Morreti—two names spoken in fear, whispered like curses in dark alleys.
Andrea grinned. "Didn't know you and Anna patched things up, Elliot. That's good news."
"We didn't, idiot," Anna snapped. "And who the hell wears sunglasses indoors?"
"Oh, so that's why it was so dark in here," Andrea shot back.
Ella couldn't help but smile at their bickering. When she looked back at Elliot, she noticed something rare—happiness flickering faintly in his expression. He had been waiting for his friend.
"So, why the men? Expecting visitors?" Andrea asked, finally sliding his sunglasses off.
"You know Vikir Andrason?" Elliot asked.
"Williams' boy? Yeah." Andrea lit a cigar. "What about him?"
"He made a scene in my club. Now the old man's coming for him. I've got his son." Elliot smirked, smoke curling from his lips.
Andrea's grin widened. "Perfect. Time to remind the Andrason family where they belong. They've been getting bold."
Lindsey paled, shock etched across her face. To hear Elliot and Andrea speak of a Don as though he were some petty thug—it was surreal, terrifying.
And then—
The door burst open again. This time, it wasn't one figure, but a formation. Men in black suits lined the entrance, guns in hand, forming an iron corridor. Through them strode a giant of a man. His broad shoulders carried power, his white hair gleamed under the dim lights, and his violet suit screamed old-world wealth and ruthlessness. A cigar burned between his lips, the smoke wrapping him like a crown.
The air grew heavier with each step he took. His presence was suffocating.
"Where's my son?"