Bound By Power

As the Cortelli family settled into dinner, the clinking of silverware and the rich aroma of Italian cuisine filled the room. Sofia and Lorenzo were the most talkative, as usual. Sofia’s cheerful voice blended with Lorenzo’s playful teasing, their laughter creating a light-hearted atmosphere despite the underlying tension that always lingered in the Cortelli household. Lorenzo was recounting a humorous encounter from earlier in the day, while Sofia eagerly chimed in with her own witty remarks.

Across the table, Vittorio remained quiet, observing his children with a measured gaze. His attention eventually shifted to Damien, the future head of the family, who ate silently, focused and composed, as always. The contrast between Damien’s reserved nature and his younger siblings’ easy laughter was striking.

Halfway through the meal, Vittorio placed his fork down and, in his typical authoritative tone, spoke across the table to his eldest son.

“After dinner, in my office, Damien,” Vittorio’s voice cut through the light conversation.

Damien didn’t flinch. He glanced briefly at his father, then gave a single, firm nod. There was no need for words between them. The gravity of what was to be discussed was clear. Vittorio’s piercing gaze lingered on Damien for a moment longer before shifting toward his wife, Luccia

In that brief exchange of glances between Vittorio and Luccia, something unsaid passed between them—a silent reminder of the conversation they had shared the night before. Luccia's expression remained calm, her eyes lowering slightly as she continued to eat, but the tension in her posture was unmistakable. Whatever had been discussed the night before was clearly weighing on both of them, and it involved their eldest son.

The light chatter between Sofia and Lorenzo continued, oblivious to the undercurrents of power and decision swirling beneath the surface of this seemingly ordinary family dinner.
After dinner, the family dispersed from the dining table, each heading toward their own quarters. Sofia and Lorenzo laughed softly as they ascended the grand staircase, while Maria walked away with an air of quiet grace. The evening’s warmth still hung in the air, but Damien, ever focused, knew his night was far from over.
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As instructed, Damien made his way toward his father’s office. The mansion’s long corridors echoed his footsteps, the dark wooden floors creaking slightly beneath his weight. Reaching the imposing double doors of the office, he raised his hand and knocked twice.

A faint voice, deep and commanding, called from inside. “Come in.”

Damien opened the door, stepping inside the dimly lit room. His eyes quickly scanned the familiar setting—dark oak shelves lined with books, family heirlooms, and portraits of Cortelli ancestors staring down at him from the walls. But what caught his attention was Luccia, his mother, seated beside Vittorio.

His eyebrows furrowed in surprise. It was rare for Luccia to be present during discussions in his father’s office. Usually, these meetings were private—strictly between him and his father.

Without a word, Vittorio gestured toward a leather chair in front of his large mahogany desk.

“Sit,” he ordered, his voice firm but calm.

Damien did as he was told, his sharp eyes shifting between his father and mother, trying to decipher the purpose of this unusual meeting. Whatever it was, he knew it wasn’t something trivial.

The weight of the conversation hung in the air before a word was even spoken.

Vittorio leaned back in his chair, his fingers drumming lightly on the armrest, eyes fixed on his son as he began.

" Damien, you already know about the Moretti's, don’t you?”

Damien nodded, leaning forward slightly, his sharp gaze never leaving his father. “The Moretti's. They live in Naples.”