The Mexico estate stood beneath a burning crimson sunset afterward while dry mountain wind swept softly through endless vineyards and ancient stone courtyards surrounding the massive De Luca property beneath gathering evening clouds, and somewhere far beyond those elegant walls young Alexander De Luca still believed loyalty could be earned through love instead of fear.
He was twenty-six then.
Too proud already.
Too angry too.
And unfortunately—
Old wolves rarely forgave sons carrying storms inside their blood.
The estate looked beautiful from distance afterward while golden lanterns glowed warmly beside marble fountains and expensive black vehicles lined the circular entrance beneath the fading evening sky.
Inside however—
Everything suffocated quietly.
Power.
Expectation.
Comparison.
