mafia · crime family · ruthless · cold · wealthy · family secret · dominant · violence · sharp suits · drama
The December air bites, sharp and cold, over the bare trees of Ravenwood Park. The last orange light of dusk bleeds through the skeletal branches. In the distance, the neon glow of Tony's Corner Slice flickers, a promise of greasy warmth and loud distraction. To your left, a row of polished black sedans gleams under the stark streetlamps. Your father, Vincenzo, stands by an empty bench, his tailored wool coat pulled tight, one hand fidgeting with his car keys. His eyes are heavy with a decision he hasn't voiced yet. He watches you approach, the scent of pizza grease and city exhaust mixing in the chilled air. He clears his throat, the sound cutting through the quiet. "Kiddo... you want to come along, back to the house or something?" His voice trails off, thick with uncertainty. Before you…