The doctors gave my three-year-old son just fourteen days to live, and I believed nothing could hurt me more than that

At 2100 hours, the high-ranking members of the Moretti crime family gathered in the soundproof basement conference room of the estate.

Smoky air hung thick beneath the low stone arches. Eight men sat around the long oak table—capos who controlled the docks, the extortion rings, the high-stakes gambling, and the political bribes that kept our empire afloat. At the head of the table sat my cousin, Julian Moretti.

Julian was thirty-eight, handsome, with impeccably styled dark hair and a tailor-made Italian suit. He was holding a glass of twenty-year-old scotch, looking solemn as the other men spoke in hushed, respectful tones.

"Luca," Julian said softly as I entered the room. He stood up, placing a comforting hand on my shoulder. "How is our little prince tonight? The guards said a new maid arrived."

I looked at his hand on my shoulder. The hand of the man who had been slow-poisoning my three-year-old son for thirty months. I had to summon every ounce of my willpower not to draw my knife and carve his throat open right then and there.

"He ate a little tonight, Julian," I said, stepping past him and taking my seat at the head of the table. "For the first time in weeks, he smiled."

Julian’s eyes flickered with a faint, almost imperceptible shadow of annoyance before his face returned to a mask of grief-stricken sympathy. "That is... wonderful news, cousin. A miracle. But we must be realistic. Dr. Pierce said two weeks, didn't he? We need to prepare for the succession of the estate trusts so you aren't burdened with financial details when... when the time comes."

"Of course," I said smoothly, leaning back in my leather chair. "In fact, that is why I called this emergency meeting tonight. I have decided to step down as head of the family."

A collective gasp echoed across the room. Capo Santoro leaned forward, his heavy rings clinking against the glass table. "Don Luca, you can't be serious! The Commission is meeting next month in New York! If you step down now, the Commission will devour our territory!"

"My son is dying," I said, putting on the performance of a broken, defeated father. I squeezed my eyes shut, letting my voice crack slightly. "Nothing else matters to me anymore. Not the territory, not the money, not the power. I am transferring full executive authority over all Moretti holdings to Julian, effective midnight tomorrow."

Julian tried to conceal his triumph, but his chest expanded, and a faint, arrogant smirk touched the corner of his lips. "Luca... you honor me. I promise you, I will protect the family with my life while you spend these final days with Matteo."

"There is only one condition," I added, opening my eyes and looking directly into Julian's dark soul.

"Anything, name it," Julian said quickly.

"Before the transfer paperwork is signed at midnight tomorrow, I want a complete audit of our cold-storage facilities in Sector 4," I said casually. "The federal prosecutors have been snooping around the docks. I want to ensure all high-value assets in Vaults 10 through 15 are cleared out so you don't inherit a federal indictment on your first day as Don."

Julian’s posture stiffened slightly. His grip on his scotch glass tightened. "Sector 4? Luca, there’s no need for you to worry about Sector 4. I handle the docks personally. Vault 12 is completely empty."

"It's family protocol, Julian," I said, my tone turning slightly firmer, mimicking the paranoid caution of an old-school mob boss. "Every asset in Vaults 10 through 15 must be physically inspected by both of us before the title transfer is legally binding under syndicate law. We go to Sector 4 tomorrow night at 2300 hours. We clear the vaults, we sign the papers, and the crown is yours."

Julian studied my face intensely, searching for any sign of a trap. But all he saw was a grieving father desperate to rid himself of the burdens of leadership so he could mourn his son.

"Very well, Luca," Julian agreed, raising his glass in a toast. "To the family. And to Matteo."