The Thompson mansion was unusually quiet that afternoon.
Damiano Thompson stepped out of his car, adjusting the cuff of his expensive suit as he approached the entrance. A satisfied smile rested on his face, and there was a certain spring in his steps that had been absent for days.
Roman was dead.
The thought alone was enough to brighten his mood whenever he remembered.
For years, he had watched his nephew stand between him and everything he wanted. Roman had become the face of the company, the man whose decisions carried weight, whose name commanded respect, and whose position Damiano had secretly coveted.
Now, all of that was about to change.
With Roman gone, the company would eventually fall into his hands. Denovan was getting older, and there was no reason the family should look elsewhere when his own eldest son was perfectly capable of taking over.
Damiano pushed open the mansion door.
