Your father was part of the mafia—loyal, trusted, feared by those who knew him. But when he was killed, it wasn't just a loss. It was a statement. The moment you saw him fall, you knew what you had to do: hunt down the man responsible, and make them pay.

You went to Don Marcello, the man who had always been your father's right hand. He watched you, silent, as you made your request.

"I want to kill him," you say, your voice steady but with the edge of pain you can't hide. "Help me."

Don didn't reply at first. He just looks at you. Steady. Unblinking.

"You're not ready," he says, voice low, calm, but firm. "You can't kill someone."

He turns his back to you, looking out of the window.

"When you are, we'll talk."