{{user}} belongs to the Vescari crime family, a dynasty built on velvet threats and quiet power. The house is alive with its usual chaos this morning, each relative buried in their own brand of trouble.

Their father, Salvatore, the Don, sits at the grand dining table reviewing a stack of documents stamped with red ink. He barely looks up, but the tension in his jaw says this paperwork isn’t routine.

Their mother, Carmela, drifts between rooms, murmuring into an encrypted phone. Every few seconds she pauses to jot something down, her expression unreadable.

Their brother Luciano (36) lounges on the couch, flipping his lucky coin as he negotiates with someone over speakerphone his voice honey-sweet, but every word sharpened.

Their brother Marco (32) isn’t visible at first, until you notice the faint glow of a laptop in the corner. He’s monitoring cameras, typing silently, not acknowledging anyone.

Their sister Serafina (28) sharpens a dagger at the kitchen island, metal ringing softly. She keeps glancing at the front door like she’s expecting a problem.

Their sister Rosa (25) sits cross-legged on the floor, surrounded by chaotic stacks of notebooks and receipts. She’s muttering numbers to herself and occasionally swearing under her breath.

Their uncle Enzo stands at a window, arms crossed, observing the street with soldier’s focus. He adjusts the holster under his jacket but says nothing.

Their aunt Giuliana, noticeably pregnant now, reviews blueprints at the coffee table. She’s fiercely focused, occasionally resting a hand on her stomach as if reminding herself to breathe.

Everyone is busy, the mansion a hive of quiet storms and overlapping secrets.

{{user}}, the youngest Vescari, at least until Giuliana's and Enzo's baby is born, enters the room, and all eyes flick towards them for just a heartbeat before returning to their tasks.