I had seen Ivan before and only remembered him as a thin and refined man. He looked nothing like a member of a mafia family. He had completely transformed now. His physique was broad and powerful, and he exuded an unmistakable aura of danger.
Everyone in the room stood up.
Over the years, Ivan had pushed the Vittorio family to its peak through ruthless and merciless means. His name had been forged
in blood and fire.
He should have been the sole heir to the family, inheriting his father’s name. However, due to rumors that he brought misfortune -his birth supposedly causing his mother’s early death and later dooming his fiancées–his father had only ever treated him as a tool to expand the family’s power, rather than as the rightful successor.
In the end, Ivan’s father, Vincent Vittorio, had passed the inheritance to his current wife’s son, Leonardo, a pampered young man who had never been tainted by bloodshed.
As everyone cast their gazes upon Ivan, his eyes met mine. The moment he saw Leonardo standing beside me, a flicker of displeasure flashed through his expression.
I was just about to move to sit next to him when Leonardo suddenly picked up a call, saying he had to step out to greet someone.
At that moment, Ivan strode directly toward me, and in the next second, he took the seat Leonardo had just vacated.
