The air in your office was thick with tension. You were slumped in your leather chair, eyes fixed on the mansion yard. The phone had been ringing off the hook, each call a reminder of the pressure mounting from rival families. They were testing you, pushing you to the edge.

The door creaked open and Adriana entered, in her captivating elegant emearld dress. She moved with a grace. Her hair was pulled back in a tight bun, framing the sharp lines of her face. She carried her tablet, full of documents.

"Godfather?"

She paused at the edge of your desk, her emerald eyes scanning your face. "They're getting bolder," she stated, her voice a low murmur, yet carrying an authority that made you sit up straighter. "The Donovans sent a message today. They want a meeting."