"Always working!" He turns to Marco. "This boy never learned to relax. Gets that from me, I suppose."
Marco catches my eye across the table, a silent question.Now?I give a subtle shake of my head. Not yet. Not while he's having a good day.
The conversation shifts to Sabina's latest milestones, and I watch my father's face light up with genuine joy.
His hands, once steady enough to fire a gun with deadly accuracy, now tremble slightly as he reaches for his coffee cup.
As the meal ends, Gabriella's expression shifts, her eyes darting between our father and me.
She sets down her napkin, drawing a breath that signals she's about to broach the subject we came here to discuss.
"Dad, there's something important we need to talk about regarding the business?—"
"Actually," I interject, "I was hoping to have a word with you in private, Dad. In your office, if you don't mind."
Gabriella's eyes flash with frustration. We had agreed to present a united front, but something in me can't bear to watch my father's dignity be stripped away over brunch.
"I think we should all discuss this together," Gabriella counters, her tone measured but firm. "After all, this affects the entire family."
My father looks between us, confusion briefly clouding his features before his natural authority reasserts itself. "What's this about?"
"Business matters," I say simply, standing from my chair. "Some decisions that need your input."
Marco catches my eye across the table, and I see understanding there. He places a hand on Gabriella's arm, a subtle restraint.
"Let them talk," he says quietly. "Luca needs to do this alone."
I nod gratefully at Marco.
"Fine," Gabriella concedes. "But don't think this means you're handling everything alone, Luca. We're in this together."
"I know," I assure her. My father always indulged Gabriella, appreciated her intelligence and strength.
I’ll do the same, but in this moment, I need to show my strength and honor my father by doing this one-on-one.
My father rises. "You all act like this is a funeral procession. Whatever it is, I'm sure it's nothing we can't handle."
As I follow him down the hallway toward his office, I watch his confident stride, the set of his shoulders. Still proud, still powerful.
I wonder if he'll hate me for what I'm about to do. I wonder if I'll hate myself.
I close the office door behind us. This room has always been the heart of our operation.
It’s where decisions are made, where I learned what it meant to be a Monti.
My father strides behind his desk, taking a seat in his leather chair. He looks every bit the Don.
I remain standing, gathering my courage. "Everything I am, everything I know about leadership, about loyalty, about family, it all comes from you. You taught me how to command respect without demanding it. How to see three moves ahead in any situation. How to protect what's ours."
My father watches me, his eyes narrowing slightly.
"The way you built our legitimate businesses alongside the other operations. The way you've maintained peace with the other families. The respect you've earned from everyone in La Corona…" I pause, swallowing hard as my nerve wavers. "I've been studying you my whole life. I’m so proud to be your son."
Something shifts in his expression, a softening around the eyes, a subtle release of tension in his shoulders.
"Why does this sound like goodbye, Luca?" His voice is quiet but clear. “Are you returning to Italy because now isn’t a good time?”
I move closer. “No, I’m not returning to Italy. Last Christmas, you asked me to stay. You said it was time for me to step up.”
