The hospital waiting room felt cold, sterile, and eerily quiet. The silence was filled with the hum of fluorescent lights, occasionally broken by announcements over the intercom. Bruce sat across from Isabella, his elbows resting on his knees, his hands clasped together. His eyes were fixed on the small boy sitting in her lap.Michaelangelo sat contentedly on his mother's lap, his small fingers wrapped around a toy car Isabella had pulled from her bag. He made soft vrooming sounds as he moved the car back and forth across her knee, his dark curls bouncing with each movement.Isabella laughed softly, brushing a curl from his forehead. "You're going to wear that car out, my love."Michaelangelo looked up at her with wide, curious eyes. "Mama, when can we go home?""Soon, tesoro," she said softly, her voice tender. "Soon."Bruce watched them, captivated. There was something in the way Isabella cradled her son with such tenderness and love that it made Bruce's chest ache. He didn't know

Bruce's eyes opened wide in surprise. He pushed away from the wall, his voice sharp and urgent. "Isabella, are you out of your mind? You can't do that!"Isabella's jaw tightened, but she held her ground. "I can't just sit here and wait for a miracle to happen, Bruce. My father is locked up in a Marchetti prison. The only reason he's still alive is because Enzo is using him as leverage to drag me back. The longer he stays there, the more he suffers." She paused, her voice cracking. "I can't bear to live with that. I must save him."Bruce stepped closer, his voice firm. "And you think walking into a Mafia stronghold is the solution? That's suicide."Isabella let out a bitter laugh. "I was raised in a Mafia home, Bruce. I've been surrounded by danger my entire life. I know how to take care of myself. I know how to survive."Bruce shook his head sharply. "You're walking right into a trap, and you know it. Enzo wants you to come; he's counting on it. You shouldn’t take the risk, especiall

Bruce placed the magazine on the armrest and leaned back in his chair, crossing one leg over the other with a calm, unbothered expression."Sit down, Enzo," Bruce said calmly, his voice steady. "We need to talk."With a swift motion, Enzo pulled out a sleek black pistol. He aimed it directly at Bruce's chest, his finger hovering over the trigger. "How the hell did you get in here?"Bruce didn't flinch. "I came through the front door. Your men let me through."Enzo's eyes narrowed, his grip tightening on the weapon. He moved closer, keeping the gun aimed at Bruce. "Then you're an even bigger fool than I imagined. What's stopping me from pulling the trigger right now and putting a bullet in your head?" Bruce maintained a calm expression. "Because I've come to make peace with you. I understand you're angry, and you have every right to be. However, there are much better ways to resolve this conflict than resorting to violence. So, I'd suggest you lower your gun and listen to what I have

The Godfather stared at Bruce, his swollen eyes narrowing with disbelief. He let out a rough, bitter laugh that turned into a cough. "Is this a joke? You can't be serious."Bruce's expression remained steady. "It's not a joke. The reason you lost to the Marchettis is because you got soft after your daughter married. You lost your edge. I'll restore your criminal empire back to you. You can run the operations as usual, but I control everything. Every decision you make must go through me before it's implemented."The Godfather scoffed, shaking his head. "You must have lost your mind. That's not how the Mafia works. You don't just walk in and declare yourself Godfather."Bruce didn't flinch. "I don't care how the Mafia works. I don't want to learn your rules. What I want is control. In exchange, I'll give you protection." He paused for effect, then went on. "The Black Foot Clan are the most powerful foot soldiers on earth. No rival Mafia family will ever cross you and live to see the ne

Bruce gazed at her, feeling his chest tighten. He had expected arguments, demands, and ultimatums. He hadn't imagined she would quietly go along with his argument like that.The Godfather's face reddened. "Isabella, this is unacceptable. You're a Soprano. You don't wait around for a man to decide whether he wants you."Isabella turned to her father, her voice gentle. "Father, I've spent my whole life doing what was expected of me. I married Enzo because you forced me to. I stayed because I had no choice. For once, let me choose what I want. And what I want is for Michaelangelo to have his father in his life. Even if it takes time."The Godfather stared at her, his mouth open, but no words came out. He realized that he had been the cause of his daughter's unhappiness for the past three years, and this realization broke him. "You're right, Isabella," he finally admitted. "I'm sorry. I was being too hasty. It's all right. Do what you think is best for both you and your son. I only want