Vincent walked down the dimly lit corridor, his steps steady, his mind sharp. The mansion was massive, its halls lined with centuries of Valenciari history—paintings of past Dons, old weapon displays, and relics of a mafia empire built on blood and power.
Despite the grandeur, the atmosphere was suffocating. Every corner held watchful eyes, men stationed at their posts, ensuring nothing disturbed the heart of the Valenciari Family.
Vincent's escort, a tall enforcer clad in a black suit, walked just ahead, leading him toward his father's office.
"Your father is expecting you, Young Master," the man said, his tone neutral, but firm.
Vincent gave a short nod, saying nothing.
This would be his second meeting with Luciano Valenciari, the man who ruled the underworld with an iron fist.
And this time, Vincent wasn't just a passive observer.
The heavy mahogany doors loomed before him. Two guards flanked them, their hands resting on the butts of their holstered guns.
A silent warning.
Vincent met their gazes without hesitation.
The guard on the left gave a curt nod before opening the door.
Inside, Luciano Valenciari sat behind an enormous black desk, cigar smoke curling around him. He looked just as powerful as before—broad shoulders, piercing golden eyes that felt like they could strip a man's soul bare.
His presence alone filled the room with a suffocating authority.
"Vincent."
His father's deep voice broke the silence.
Vincent stepped forward, keeping his expression neutral.
"Father."
Luciano studied him for a long moment, his sharp eyes lingering on Vincent's posture, his composure. It was as if he was searching for something.
Then, a smirk tugged at his lips.
"Good. You carry yourself better than before."
Vincent's pulse remained steady, but inside, his mind raced.
Did he notice something?
Had his father already detected the change in him?
Luciano leaned back in his chair, exhaling a thin stream of smoke.
"Tell me, Vincent. What is your purpose in this family?"
The question was simple, yet loaded with meaning.
This was a test.
One wrong answer, and his father would see him as weak. Useless. Disposable.
Vincent met his father's gaze.
"To ensure the Valenciari name remains unchallenged."
Luciano's smirk widened slightly.
"And how do you intend to do that?"
Vincent's hands remained relaxed at his sides, but his mind moved fast.
Power. Strength. Strategy.
Those were the only things his father respected.
"By becoming the sharpest weapon this family has ever wielded," Vincent said, his voice steady. "Stronger than our enemies. Smarter than our rivals. And merciless when the time comes."
Silence.
For a moment, Luciano simply watched him.
Then—
A low chuckle.
"Hah. Finally, you say something worth listening to."
Luciano leaned forward, placing his cigar in the crystal ashtray. His golden eyes glowed under the dim office light.
"You weren't born just to be my son, Vincent. You were born to inherit everything."
Vincent remained silent, absorbing his father's words.
Luciano continued, his voice calm, but heavy with meaning.
"There are men who serve, and there are men who lead. And in this family, a leader must be more than ruthless—he must be undeniable."
He reached into his desk drawer and pulled out a black envelope, sliding it across the polished surface.
Vincent took it without hesitation.
"Inside is your first real test," Luciano said. "A task that will determine whether you are worthy of the Valenciari name… or just another liability."
Vincent's fingers tightened slightly around the black envelope, its weight far heavier than mere paper. This wasn't just a task—it was a judgment. A test to determine whether he would rise as the future Don of the Valenciari family… or be deemed unworthy.
Luciano Valenciari's golden eyes burned into him, sharp and expectant. Waiting. Measuring.
Failure wasn't just unacceptable. It was fatal.
Vincent lifted his gaze, his heartbeat steady.
"Understood."
Luciano leaned back, studying him for a moment. Then, he let out a low chuckle.
"Good. Then let's see what you can do."
The Don reached for his cigar, taking another slow drag, the ember glowing bright before dimming into smoke. The room fell silent, thick with unspoken warnings.
Vincent knew what this meant.
From this moment on, there were no second chances.
No safety nets.
He was walking into a world where hesitation meant death.
And yet—
A strange excitement burned inside him.
In the novel, this was where his character should have faltered. Where his fear and inexperience would have proven that he was nothing more than a disposable stepping stone for the protagonist.
But that wasn't going to happen.
Not this time.
Vincent wasn't just going to pass this test—he was going to crush it.
Luciano exhaled a final plume of smoke before extinguishing the cigar in the crystal ashtray. Then, with a dismissive wave, he spoke:
"You may go."
Vincent didn't hesitate.
With a final nod, he turned on his heel and strode toward the door. He could feel his father's gaze lingering on his back, still observing, still judging. But he didn't falter.
As he stepped past the threshold, the doors closing behind him, something shifted inside him—
A realization.
This was no longer just a test.
It was his first step toward rewriting his destiny.
Vincent glanced down at the black envelope in his grip. He didn't need to open it yet to know what it contained: A name. A location. A time.
And a single, unspoken command:
Kill.
A side character wasn't meant to bear this weight.
But Vincent Valenciari was no longer a side character.
He was becoming something more.
With renewed purpose, he tightened his grip on the envelope, his mind already planning, already strategizing.
No matter who the target was—
He would not fail.
He could not fail.
Because this was only the beginning.
And soon—
The underworld would kneel before him.
---
End of Chapter.