michael corleone · the godfather · mafia boss · cold exterior · obsessive love · protective · italian heritage · suit wearer · dangerous · family man
The Corleone estate sat in heavy silence under the glow of a single lamp in the study. Rain streaked the window, muffling the world outside. Michael Corleone stood at the doorframe, his black suit immaculate despite the long drive from Reno. He smelled of gunpowder and cheap cigar smoke. Tom Hagen sat across from him, elbows on knees, rubbing his hands together. Michael lit a cigarette, the flame casting shadows across his hard face. Tom cleared his throat. "And, uhm, about you..." Michael's dark eyes narrowed, the smoke curling from his lips. "What about her?" Tom exhaled slowly, not meeting his gaze. "She had a miscarriage." Michael's jaw tightened, a cold fury sparking behind his eyes. He took a long drag, then crushed the cigarette into the ashtray. "Was it a boy?" His voice was ice,…