Tony had just stepped inside the dining room.

But the tension in the air was already crackling.

‘It still smelled like an old wood in here. Nothing has changed.’

He proceeded to sniff the air. ‘Ah!’

‘A scent of wine!’

At the long mahogany table, decked with silverwares, porcelain and bottles of wine, sat his younger brother, Alvaro, Franco and his cousin—Alessandro.

‘Fucking Alessandro,’ he thought, while he walk leisurely toward the table.

Remembering again, the pretty thief.

Tony smirked at his own joke.

Then his eyes locked on his target.

Their eyes met.

“Alessandrino, since when did you earn a seat at this table?” Tony asked.

Purposely calling him by the wrong name.

He was hoping to rile up the petty Alessandro—the cousin he hated.

But Alessandro only matched his smirk.

“Antonio..” he trailed, looking at Tony up and down.

Measuring him.

“You’re still alive I see..” then Alessandro reached for his glass of wine.

“I thought you’d finally kicked the bucket, cugino (cousin). Where have you been all these years, huh?”

Tony raised his brows.

Alessandro raised his full glass of wine in a relaxed manner.

“And to answer your question, I have earned my seat here ever since you left,” sneering.

“The Don seated me here himself.” Alessandro said proudly, sipping his wine slowly—eyes never leaving Tony.

Tony chuckled darkly.

“And I see you have become chatty and…grown bold,” Tony commented while trying to pick a side to sit.

Then he made a show of his eyes dropping to his cousin’s lap.

“Bolder now that you’ve got no balls?”

Tony reminded everyone of that time—Alessandro’s shameful past—when Alessandro got his balls operated on.

Alessandro’s eyes lit with obvious fury.

And everybody can hear Alessandro’s teeth shattering from how hard he was clenching his jaw. 

‘Heh, still hasn't changed.’ Tony thought.

“Bastardo (bastard),”Alessandro spat through gritted teeth.

But then as if remembering something, Alessandro smiled.

“Heh, funny how the black sheep always thinks he’s the wolf. You have stepped inside the den of the lions. And I don't see teeth, Antonio,” Alessandro spits all the words.

Then—

CLINK

The sound of glasses.

Tony glanced at his brothers—Alvaro and Franco—who were quietly sipping their own wine.

‘They’ve grown..’ he eyed them bitterly.

They didn't even acknowledge his presence.

Then, footsteps echoed outside the dining room—three, maybe more—they were fast approaching.

Tony’s heart ticked faster, so he decided to sit down—to a seat that was not his.

The sound of the scraping chair only added to the tension.

He can hear a quiet chuckle.

“You just came back and you are already antagonizing your cousin, Antonio,” It was Bernardo.

His uncle. 

His father’s one and only younger brother.

Tony didn't answer.

More like he couldn't.

Three more people stepped in.

Tony’s eyes were not leaving the newly arrived people.

He saw his mother, Maria—who now refused to look at him.

‘She looks nervous.’

Then his father, Leandro.

And finally—

His grandfather, cane in hand.

The Don.

Don Leon Santa De Leones.

Tony swallowed hard..

He was now in the presence of the real leader of the family.

Don Leon.

And his presence was no joke.

Everybody seemed like they also held their breath—waiting for the Don to stir or speak.

No one dared to move.

Although Alessandro’s hands can’t hide the shaking of his hands.

Tony can’t hear a thing even a sniffle.

Even though it's been so long.

It’s been seventeen years.

He thought the old Don had grown older.

Weak.

Like a lion that loses its claws with age.

He’s been wrong.

Very wrong.

If anything, it seems that the old lion only sharpened its claws to perfection.

Tony can still feel his knees go weak under that stare.

The ones that were already seated all stood up and bowed, except Tony who couldn't—so he stayed seated.

His knees are slightly shaking under the table.

The Don’s piercing gray eyes were unreadable.

‘Always has been,’ Tony slowly releases his breath.

He looked Tony straight in the eyes, as if the Don was trying to make him submit.

‘It was effective but I can’t do that.’

‘You have a mission, Tony!!!’ he reminded himself.

Tony forced himself to be brave.

‘I have no reason to be afraid,’ he tried to coax himself into believing that.

He tried to relaxed, let the tension go away, but it's proving to be hard.

He tried to settle more in his seat.

But then his gaze shifted, something caught his eyes.

A painting.

Hung behind the Don.

His face hardened in an instant.

His blood—freezing.

His chest tightening.

It was the old family portrait.

‘Nostalgic.’

He saw himself in it.

And beside him there—Antonia.

His twin.

The one who had died.

Because of this family’s neglect.

A grave reminder.

Antonia’s smile in oil on canvas.

Forever fifteen.

Frozen in time—while the family kept eating, kept smiling, kept going—like she never existed.

It's the one he always dreamed at night when he closes his eyes.

That's why he hated his name—Antonio.

‘It sounded like her name..’

He tried to tear his gaze to the painting, but couldn't.

‘You all just let her die, with the same drugs and weapons that you manufactured.’

Fury was slowly blooming like wildfire under his skin.

‘I will never forgive you.’

He closes his eyes and then opens them slowly.

He buried his feelings again.

But the fire remained.

‘It’s not the right time.’

Then, he felt all their eyes on him.

Waiting.

To see if he’d stand and bow.

Bow? 

To the very people that let his sister die?

Tony smirked instead.

He did not stand.

‘I’m the black sheep.’

‘I don't bend to your family’s rule.’

“You’re still alive..” Tony deliberately trailed. “..old man.” 

Tony was full of sarcasm.

A collective gasp echoed around the table.

“Che faccia tosta..(What a nerve…)” someone whispered.

“Hai dimenticato chi sei?! (Did you forget who you are?)” 

It was Leandro—his eyes nearly bulging, and a vein was about to pop on his temple.

While Bernardo was secretly smiling.

Seeing the comedy beyond the tension.

“Antonio! Rispetta la famiglia! (Respect the family!)”

This time it was Maria.

Voice sharp, almost pleading.

Alvaro’s foot stomped down on Tony’s polished shiny shoes beneath the table.

But Tony just scratched his chin.

Trying to hide the mixture of his emotions.

“Ho fame, mangiamo.. (I’m hungry, let’s eat.)”

Don Leon did not say anything.

Hadn't even moved.

He was still looking at Tony.

Watching.

While everyone else was panicking.

But one gesture—

Just one move—made them all shut their trap.

The Don raised a single hand slightly.

And silence fell like a hammer.

The air became thick.

Suffocating.

Even his mother looked breathless.

‘Ever the dramatic,’ Tony thought sarcastically.

He reached for the silver spoon and knife—

Then deliberately dropping the knife.

TING

The sound echoed like a gunshot in a quiet cathedral.

Then, to Tony’s surprised and everyone else in the room—

The Don smiled.

Then total silence.

Maria clutched her dress.

Franco shifted nervously.

“And who is the real mafia here?” the Don said in his thick, gravelly Italian accent.

Like the kind that you only heard in villainous films.

Tony shrugged.

“You taught me not to bow to anyone, old man.” he said coolly, he was now slowly reaching for a bottle of wine 

“I’m just applying what I learned from you.”

Then the Don laughed.

A full-bodied, joyful laugh.

‘Like a real villain.’

Even Tony was stunned—but he didn't show it.

He instead opened the bottle of wine and took a long swig.

‘He’s gone mad.’

“Yes. You are right,” the Don stopped talking, then—

“We, the mafia, bow to no one,” the Don added with a nod.

“I have taught you well.”

Then he sat down.

And like dominoes, the rest of the family followed.

Tony let his eyes scan the table.

Alvaro’s eyes seem to be smiling.

Looking proud of something.

And Franco? 

He was grinning from ear to ear.

His mother looked… relieved.

And his father? 

Serious as always but his eyes were a bit glassy.

Only Bernardo and Alessandro looked like they’d swallowed glass.

‘I can't understand this family,’ Tony thought.

He continued to drink from the bottle.

Just then, the smell of food hit him.

His stomach growled.

The servants brought in the dishes.

And that’s when he caught a pair of blue eyes.

Looking at him.

Not measuring.

But smiling.

Flirty.

Tony smirked.

‘Cute,’ he thought.

He returned the look and winked.

‘I won't be bored here, then.’

**