Chapter 115

• Rosa’s POV
• The conference room smelled faintly of leather and freshly brewed espresso, a combination that always reminded me of my father. It was his space, his domain, where every deal, decision, and strategy was meticulously planned. I sat at the long oak table, flanked by my father’s most trusted advisors and a few of my cousins, including Marco. I glared at him.
• I had grown up in rooms like this. I knew the game well—speak only when necessary, choose your words with precision, and never let your emotions betray you. Today, however, I was finding it harder to stick to those rules.