Shadows at the Table

The warmth of human skin startled him, and he inhaled sharply.

The source was likely one of his guards, Ragar or Georgio who are standing silently behind him.

However, that fleeting moment of warmth was enough to dispel the dark thoughts that had begun to take root in his mind.

Rocco reminded himself that he wasn't entirely alone in this room filled with enemies.

He had his real family standing with him—not one bound by blood, but a family he could trust more deeply than any relative connected by lineage.

His lips curved into a faint, almost imperceptible smile as he lowered his gaze briefly.

Thank you, he thought silently to Ragar and Georgio, their presence rekindling the confidence within him.

Straightening his back, he raised his head.

Let's be focus. Think about all the effort that has led to this day, he told to himself.

He recalled the countless hours he spent preparing, carefully drafting strategies, and mapping out every twist and potential danger.

Every plan, down to the smallest detail, had been crafted with precision.

I've come too far to falter now. I won't let this be my end. I'll survive in this dangerous world of mafia politics—no matter what it takes.

Suddenly, the frigid, absolute-zero voice of the family head sliced through the air, freezing the entire room.

"Enough with the idle chatter. Let's eat or the food will grow cold."

Rocco glanced toward the speaker—his father, Marcus who is seated at the head of the table.

His cold, unfeeling eyes cast downward, a slight furrow in his brow betraying his irritation.

Perhaps it was hearing both Layla's and Rocco's voices together that had soured his mood.

It seemed likely he'd already forgotten this was supposed to be a celebration for Rocco's birthday.

Not that Rocco had dared to expect anything resembling a surprise party.

His mind shifted to the figure seated nearby: Sylas.

Even Layla, typically one to press her luck, snapped her fan shut and fell silent under Marcus's oppressive aura.

The room descended into an uneasy quiet as everyone began eating their meals.

Rocco, while meticulously handling his cutlery, observed the others.

His gaze finally settled on Sylas, locking onto him with intent.

So far, Sylas's behavior hadn't deviated from the ordinary.

Rocco's mind began to churn, calculating.

That event… is it still a ways off? Just as he started piecing things together, it happened.

A flicker of tension crossed Sylas's face—a minute change, but one Rocco didn't miss it.

After all, he'd been watching Sylas closely from the moment he stepped into the hall.

His eyes darted to Sylas's soup bowl.

A particular ingredient caught his attention, and Rocco exhaled quietly.

So, the story is finally moving toward its well-deserved downfall.

He mentally revisited the original story's progression.

Layla had spent six years leveraging her family's influence to persuade Marcus to host this birthday party for Rocco.

But in the narrative, this very event was where Rocco—the villain—would be fully declared an enemy by both Sylas, the protagonist, and Marcus, their father.