In a dimly lit café tucked between city courthouses, Lena Adams leans forward, her manicured fingers toying with the rim of a cappuccino cup. Across from her, a nervous whistleblower dabs at his brow. The tension is thick enough to cut with a gavel.
"You really want to go up against my client?" Lena asks, smiling sweetly. "Because I've already drafted a defamation suit that'll keep you in court until your grandchildren graduate."
With a shaky hand, the man reaches into a cake box—yes, a literal cake—and pulls out several laminated bills, greasy with frosting. Lena tilts her head approvingly, the glint in her eye sharp and unrelenting. Job done.
At the courthouse steps, she's joined by her over-enthusiastic intern, Mascot, who practically bounces with excitement.
Inside the courtroom, Lena dons a different face—that of the ice-cold defense attorney for Virexon, a pharmaceutical giant accused of causing deaths during clinical trials. The prosecution's star witness? The very man now licking frosting off his fingers somewhere far away. With his testimony recanted, the judge has no choice but to adjourn.
Outside the courthouse, Lena barely makes it down the stairs before being intercepted by the opposing counsel—her father, Judge Adams.
"You really have no shame," he mutters, arms folded. "This case reeks of mafia tactics."
Tears pool in her eyes. "Dad, please," she pleads. "You're not well. This case is killing you."
"Save it for the camera," he replies coldly. "Maybe acting's a better fit. Less collateral damage."
The crocodile tears vanish. Lena straightens, her spine steel. "You can't beat me."
"Oh, I don't need to. I just need to find a legal way to disown you."
Meanwhile…
A luxury jet touches down in Cape Town, and stepping onto the tarmac is Ethan Cole—mafia consigliere, heir to an empire, and very much on a tight schedule. One month, tops. Then he's off to Malta.
Except, the moment he hops into a cab, his plan derails.
The driver? A con artist.
The water? Drugged.
While Ethan lies unconscious in the back seat, a team of Italian organized crime investigators in Rome catch wind of his arrival. Overzealous Team Leader Matthew is certain Ethan's up to something. His superior, however, rolls his eyes and tells him to calm down. Matthew leaves, insulted and fuming.
Back in her office, Lena breaks into a ridiculous self-congratulatory jingle, spinning around with jazz hands. She's halfway through a verse when her boss, Attorney Michael, walks in.
"You're getting a bonus," he says flatly.
Instantly, the waterworks begin.
"Oh, sir… thank you… I'm so moved."
He leaves, and her expression hardens. "That's it? Cheapskate."
Ethan awakens groggily, his designer jacket gone, wallet empty, and a bruise blooming on his temple. The thieves make off with the last of his luxury goods, leaving him $50 and a heap of rage.
Dirt-smudged and furious, he launches into a rapid-fire tantrum in Italian, startling bystanders as he boards a public bus. The other passengers glance at his sharp features and wild gestures with a mixture of pity and admiration.
At long last, Ethan arrives at The Plaza—a nondescript building that hides one of the most valuable crypto vaults in Europe.
FLASHBACK — Five Years Ago, Milan.
Fabio's old associate begged for help hiding something dangerous. Ethan, using an old Cole family tactic, bought a crumbling property in South Africa under a proxy name and hid the vault in a secret biometric safe room beneath it.
Back in the present, Ethan is met by Andrew Williams, the man who's been managing his affairs in Cape Town.
"They've been trying to buy us out," Andrew explains. "Virexon bought up the nearby shops. But I've held firm. Just like you asked."
Ethan nods, surveying the modest apartment Andrew's arranged for him. A far cry from Milan's grandeur, but he hides his disappointment well.
"This'll do," he mutters, kicking a duffel bag aside.
Andrew pats his back. "I'll arrange a tenants' meeting tomorrow."
Ethan looks out the window. The city sprawls beneath a bruised sky, full of secrets.
He's got work to do.