𝓗𝓲𝓼 𝑅𝑒𝑖𝑔𝑛

65

The courthouse loomed ahead, a fortress of cold stone and marble meant to uphold the rules of men—a place built on laws and structure. Today, though, this building and everyone in it would yield. They’d bow to me, to my power, and to the demands of the empire I controlled. There was no question of law here—only obedience.

My sleek, black car rolled to a slow stop at the entrance, the engine purring low and steady as I took in the scene. My fingers tapped against the leather seat, a habit that helped clear my mind before a deal. My men moved first, stepping out with silent precision, their postures shifting from relaxed to ready. Each knew their position; their presence alone was enough to turn heads.

When I stepped out, the silence was immediate. A ripple of fear spread across the small crowd outside—lawyers, assistants, even some reporters whose eyes widened as they recognized me. They knew who I was. My reputation was all I needed to send a shiver down their spines, to make them freeze in place.

Every step I took was deliberate, my shoes striking the pavement in a steady rhythm. As I walked forward, my men fell into formation, fanning out silently around me like the well-rehearsed machine they were. I didn’t rush. I didn’t need to. I owned every inch of this moment, just as I would soon own whatever property I’d set my sights on.

Giovanni moved ahead, his expression sharp and professional as he approached the glass entry doors. His hand hovered over the handle, waiting as a junior lawyer—a young man whose nerves were all too apparent—stumbled forward, trying his best to mask his fear.

“Can I… Can I help you, gentlemen?” he stammered, his voice shaking as he looked between me and my men.

Giovanni didn’t even glance at him. Instead, Marco stepped forward, his voice low and unyielding. “Mr. Russo has an appointment with the property acquisition division. Announce him. Now.”

The lawyer swallowed hard, giving a quick, trembling nod before he disappeared through the doors. As he hurried off, I caught sight of others inside—clerks, attorneys, interns—who quickly diverted their gazes, moving to the sides of the hallway like shadows. My name alone carried enough weight to clear a path, and I saw the flicker of fear, of awe, in the faces of those who dared to look.

When I walked forward, my steps remained calm, measured, and each one echoed in the cold silence of the courtyard. I could feel the weight of every stare, but I didn’t acknowledge a single one. These people were irrelevant to me, tools in a much larger plan.

The glass doors opened automatically as we approached, and inside, a receptionist’s gaze flickered up to meet mine. I watched as she stiffened, her hands shaking as she directed us down the hall. Her eyes darted to the towering figures of my men, who flanked me on either side. Silent. Powerful. Alert.

The hallway led us to a private conference room, quiet except for the ticking of a clock on the wall. It was designed to intimidate, with floor-to-ceiling windows overlooking the city and a large oak desk dominating the center. But today, there would be no question of who held the power in this room.

A team of lawyers was already seated behind the desk, waiting. Their tailored suits and pressed collars couldn’t mask the tension in their eyes as I took my seat directly across from them. I leaned back, calm, almost indifferent as Giovanni and Marco positioned themselves behind me, each crossing their arms with matching expressions of cold detachment.

The head lawyer, a middle-aged man with graying hair and a tight-lipped expression, cleared his throat as he gathered his papers. He looked confident enough, but I saw the slight tremor in his hands as he glanced at me.

“Mr. Russo,” he began, his voice controlled but wary, “we understand that you’re here to discuss the acquisition of a private island.”

I didn’t respond. I simply held his gaze, allowing the silence to stretch out as Giovanni stepped forward, handing the man a sleek black folder, thick with documents. He opened it, flipping through the papers as his eyes darted between the words on the page and my expression.