"He stepped out of the car, the rain plastering his hair to his forehead. He ignored it, his focus solely on the task ahead. He walked through the massive oak doors, the ornate carvings mocking his every step. This house was a monument to his family's power, a constant reminder of the legacy he was expected to uphold. The air inside was thick with the scent of expensive cigars and unspoken tension. He could hear the murmur of voices coming from the study. His father. His uncles. The vultures, waiting for him to fail. He straightened his coat, forcing a mask of indifference onto his face. He wouldn't give them the satisfaction of seeing him sweat. He walked towards the study, each step deliberate, each breath measured.He reached the door and paused, his hand hovering over the handle. He knew what awaited him on the other side. Accusations, demands, and the ever-present pressure to prove himself. But he also knew that he had no choice. He was Alessandro Moretti, and this was his life.He pushed open the door and stepped into the lion's den."
