The first thing Luca noticed wasn't the announcement itself.
It was the silence that followed.
The Romano estate was rarely quiet. Even in its most disciplined hours, there was always something, footsteps echoing through marble corridors, murmured conversations between guards, the faint clink of glass from somewhere too expensive to name. Silence, here, was unnatural. It meant attention had shifted. It meant something had landed.
Luca sat in the courtyard, one leg stretched out awkwardly on a cushioned bench, the other bent at the knee. His injury had healed enough that the limp was less dramatic now, but it still reminded him of gravity whenever he moved too fast. A tablet rested loosely in his hand, forgotten, its screen dimming as seconds ticked by.
Across from him, Enzo leaned against a column, scrolling lazily through his phone. Giancarlo stood nearby, speaking quietly to a man Luca didn't recognize, probably new, probably already loyal to the wrong brother.
