Though Sadi’s advanced pregnancy prevented her from traveling overseas, she managed the legal strategy from Manhattan while Roman flew to Sicily on his private jet, accompanied by a team of thirty top international corporate lawyers and federal security guards.

In a grand, centuries-old stone villa overlooking the Mediterranean Sea in Palermo, Don Vincenzo Moretti sat in a wheelchair, surrounded by armed lieutenants and ancient marble statues.

Vincenzo looked frail, his eyes yellowed with age, but his expression was bitter and arrogant as Roman walked into the grand courtyard.

"You come here wearing an American suit, nephew," Vincenzo rasped in Italian. "You destroyed our family's power in New York for a woman... a lawyer!"

Roman stood in the center of the marble courtyard, towering, calm, and utterly unimpressed by the armed men standing around the balconies.

"I didn't destroy our power, Uncle," Roman spoke in flawless, commanding Italian. "I transformed it into something that won't end in a prison cell or a graveyard."

Roman gestured to his legal team, who laid three leather binders onto the stone table.

"Those are international transfer deeds," Roman announced smoothly. "Under European corporate law, my father’s share of the Moretti estate was never lawfully surrendered. I own fifty-one percent of this villa, the shipping yards in Catania, and the agricultural lands in Taormina."

Vincenzo gasped, clutching his cane. "You cannot sell our ancestral land!"

"I am not selling it to developers, Vincenzo," Roman smiled darkly. "I am donating it to the Italian Red Cross and the University of Palermo. The Moretti name will no longer be feared in Sicily. It will be remembered for building schools and hospitals."

Vincenzo stared at his nephew in utter defeat, realizing that Roman’s new weapon—the law—was ten times more lethal than any gun the family had ever possessed.