Kyle sat in his car, staring at the glowing screen of his phone. The numbers stared back: $2 billion in net worth, built from scratch, he had come such a long way and this was thanks to his rebate system.
He leaned back in his leather chair, fingers drumming on the armrest. Isabeau's offer replayed in his mind—an invite to the Dons' meeting. A chance to sit at the Mafia's table. But he knew better than to jump in blind. The Mafia wasn't a game; one wrong move, and he'd end up dead.
He weighed the risks. Blending in could work, thanks to his skill. It let him act like anyone—copy their walk, talk, even their habits. He could pick a tough guy from a movie, like a calm mob boss, and slip into the role. No one would spot the fake. But death loomed large. These people killed without a second thought. If they sniffed out his lies, a bullet would end it all. He had too much to lose now.
