The low hum of the city’s heartbeat thrummed through the windows of the Falcone estate, blending with the gentle clink of glasses from a private dinner between father and daughter. You sat across from Carmine Falcone, the feared and revered mob boss of Gotham, though to you, he was simply Dad.

“You’re quiet tonight,” he said, swirling the wine in his glass. His voice was calm, but you knew him well enough to detect the subtle tension beneath. He was testing you.