The Imperial Suite had transformed from a sanctuary of luxury into a courtroom of the damned. Leonardo Bronson sat huddled in a gilded chair, his sweat soaking through the collar of his bespoke tuxedo. He watched Dante... the man he had once ordered to scrub the grime from his foyer, sip a wine that cost more than most people’s monthly mortgage.Desperation is a powerful stimulant. Leonardo wiped his brow and leaned forward, his voice shifting into a nauseatingly oily pitch."Dante—or, should I say, Mr. Representative—we clearly got off on the wrong foot," Leonardo began, spreading his hands wide. "But we are men of business. Let’s set aside the... domestic misunderstandings. The Bronson Group has a development project in the North District. High-end retail, residential towers—it’s a gold mine. I’m offering you a joint venture. Fifty-fifty. We provide the land and the legacy; you provide the Apex Crown liquidity. It’s a win-win."Dante set his glass down with a soft clink that silence

The rain lashed against the windshield of the black Mercedes SUV as Leonardo Bronson drove with a manic, white-knuckled grip on the steering wheel. Beside him, Beatrice was frantically shoving jewelry into a designer silk tote, her breath hitching in jagged gasps. In the backseat, Marcus was staring at his tablet, his face ghostly pale in the digital glow."It’s not just the bank accounts, Dad," Marcus whispered, his voice trembling. "The servers… our private cloud… it’s all gone. I can’t even log into the family trust portal. It says 'User Terminated by Administrative Authority.'""Shut up, Marcus!" Leonardo roared, blowing through a red light as they neared the perimeter of the city’s private airfield. "We have the offshore account in Zurich. That’s outside Apex’s jurisdiction. Once we’re on the Gulfstream, we’re untouchable. I’ve known Captain Miller for fifteen years. He’ll get us out."Leonardo was operating on pure adrenaline, the primal instinct of a cornered animal. He believe

The Bronson estate was no longer a home. It was a crime scene of a dead legacy.Yellow police tape fluttered in the damp wind, snagging on the thorns of the untended rose bushes. The grand fountain in the circular driveway—the one Leonardo used to boast was carved from a single block of Carrara marble—had been drained, its basin filled with sodden leaves and trash. Inside the house, the silence was heavy, smelling of dust and the metallic tang of a life stripped bare.Giulia Bronson stood in the center of the foyer. She wore a simple black dress, her jewelry gone, her eyes hollow. She had spent the last forty-eight hours in a daze, watching the news loops of her father being dragged away in handcuffs and her mother’s voice echoing her shame across the nation."I didn't think you'd come," a voice echoed from the top of the grand staircase.Giulia looked up. Dante was there, but not the Dante she had known for three years. He wasn't the man who checked the tire pressure on her car or th

The guest house felt smaller with every breath Giulia took. The air was thick with the scent of her mother’s cheap, backup perfume and the lingering, metallic smell of the industrial floor cleaner Leonardo had tracked in before his shift.Giulia sat on the narrow twin bed, Dante’s bed, and felt the rough texture of the wool blanket against her palms. This was the reality of her life now. A week ago, she was debating whether to buy a third vacation home in Tuscany; tonight, she was calculating how many days a single box of generic pasta could last three adults."He’s going to kill us, Giulia," Beatrice whimpered from the folding chair. She was staring at a spider crawling up the damp drywall. "He won't stop until we’re begging for scraps on the street corner. That... that monster. To think I let him sit at my Christmas table.""We didn't let him sit there, Mother," Giulia said, her voice hollow. "We ordered him to serve the ham. There’s a difference."Giulia stood up. Her eyes fell on

The flickering television screen in the guest house was the only source of light, casting jagged, blue-tinted shadows against the peeling wallpaper. Giulia sat on the edge of the twin bed, her eyes fixed on the breaking news banner that had been scrolling for the last twenty minutes.BRONSON EMPIRE LIQUIDATED: REPRESENTATIVE WELLINGTON ANNOUNCES "LEGACY" TRANSFORMATION.She watched, frozen, as the camera panned over the boardroom she had visited a thousand times as a child. She saw the men who had been her father’s "brothers"—the titans of the city—slinking out of the building with their heads bowed, clutching single-dollar bills as if they were holy relics.Then, Dante appeared on screen. He wasn't shouting. He wasn't gloating. He spoke with a terrifying, calm clarity about "restitution" and "non-profit trusts." He was dismantling the wealth her family had spent three generations accumulating, and he was doing it with the effortless grace of a man tidying a desk."He’s giving it away