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The response to his greeting was mixed. Some heads nodded curtly, while others remained stone-faced.
Francisco wasted no time in getting to the heart of the matter. "Gentlemen, I've called this meeting to discuss the direction of our families. It's time we returned to the old ways, the ways that made our families strong. Drug dealing, weapon dealing, and the businesses that built our empire. It's time we reclaim our power."
His words hung in the air, met with a mixture of silence and muttered disagreements.
I could see the fault lines forming among the families from my seat. Some nodded in agreement, drawn by the promise of wealth and influence. Others, like me, wore expressions of distaste and disbelief.
One of the younger heads couldn't contain his frustration, his hand waving animatedly as he retorted, "You want to drag us back into the shadows, Francisco? To risk everything we've built for the sake of illegal enterprises? This is madness!"
The room erupted into a cacophony of voices, arguments breaking out like wildfire. Francisco's allies defended his proposal while his enemies, myself included, vehemently opposed it.
I leaned back in my chair, my expression cool and composed. This meeting was bound to be a powder keg, and the spark had already been lit.
Amidst the chaos of the heated arguments, one of the heads, a man known for his candor, couldn't help but make a pointed remark. He leaned forward, his eyes locked on Francisco.
"You know, if Matteo were the Don, he would never have proposed such a ridiculous notion," he said, his voice dripping with sarcasm.
The statement drew a mixed response from the room. Some nodded in agreement, while others shook their heads, refusing to entertain the idea.
For my part, I remained silent, my gaze locked onto Francisco's. It was a battle of wills, a silent exchange that spoke volumes. Neither of us was willing to back down, and in that moment, the room seemed to hold its breath.
Francisco's face twisted in a frown, but it was soon replaced by a sinister smirk that sent a shiver down my spine. It was a smirk that spoke of hidden agendas and treacherous intentions.
As the argument raged on, voices grew louder, and tempers flared. Francisco's supporters passionately argued for a bold shift in strategy, advocating for drug dealing and other illicit activities.
"We need to seize opportunities while they're available," one supporter of Francisco urged. "It's time we regain our dominance in these lucrative enterprises."
Another echoed these sentiments, "We've been too passive for too long. We must return to the old ways to maintain our power."
My allies vehemently opposed these proposals, advocating for a continued focus on legitimate business ventures and maintaining their family's reputation.
"Why should we throw away years of peace and prosperity to return to such despicable ways?" one of Matteo's loyal supporters argued. "Our family's honor and reputation are at stake here. We can't compromise our values."
Another chimed in, "We've thrived through legitimate means. There's no need to resort to criminal activities. It's a path that leads to ruin."
Francisco's voice cut through the room like a jagged knife. His displeasure was clear, and he made sure everyone knew it. "I didn't call this meeting for the heads to disrespect me so blatantly," he stated with a cold stare.
Then, with that infuriating smirk, he turned the spotlight on me. "Matteo," he said, his words dripping with innuendo, "don't you have something important to attend to?"
My heart raced, and for a moment, panic threatened to consume me. My phone vibrated, and I quickly checked my phone. Antonio had sent me a message about the house being attacked, but he and Sophia were safe.
Relief surged through me, and I couldn't help but conceal my emotions behind a mask of practiced indifference as I turned to face Francisco.
"Should you have other matters to attend to, Francisco," I retorted, my tone cool and composed, "there's no need to use me as an excuse."
The room seemed to hold its breath, the precarious balance of power swaying in the uneasy silence.
As my words lingered, Francisco's phone rang, and he picked it up, his eyes locked onto mine throughout the conversation.
Nobody could hear the other end, but the room sensed his growing displeasure from his terse responses.
Francisco finally broke the uneasy silence, his dissatisfaction evident in his tone. "My apologies, Matteo. I had assumed you had something important to attend to," he remarked with a trace of irritation.
I maintained my composure, refusing to reveal the boiling anger beneath the surface. The room remained still, a silent witness to our strained exchange.
Sensing the tension in the air, Francisco decided to wrap up the meeting. "Well, gentlemen, it seems I have an important matter to address," he announced, his gaze briefly flicking towards me. It was a not-so-subtle challenge, a reminder that he still held some sway.
The heads of the families began to disperse, with a few grumbling their dissatisfaction about how Francisco had wasted their time, and I couldn't help but narrow my eyes at Francisco's words.
