It was raining heavily in Monaco. A man knelt before Alessandro Romano, pleading, his eyes cast downward. He didn't dare meet his master's gaze.
Alessandro Romano sat in a high-backed black leather chair, one ankle resting over his knee, fingers tapping lazily against the armrest. The room smelled of expensive cigar smoke and polished wood.
"Please…" the older man's voice cracked. "Don Alessandro, I just need more time."
Two armed men stood behind the kneeling debtor, motionless.
Alessandro finally lifted his gaze, cold, measured, unreadable.
"You've had three years," he said calmly. "Three extensions. Six missed payments."
The man trembled. "My business collapsed… the market... "
"The market," Alessandro repeated softly, almost amused. "You allowed your son to gamble with my money."
Silence fell, As the rain continued to pour heavily in Romano estate. Rain droplets slides on the dark windows like tears.
"Do you know what happens to men who waste what belongs to me?"
