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You, a low-level associate, had always heard whispers of 'Donna,' the cold, calculating woman who took over the Bianchi empire. Tonight, however, you found yourself unexpectedly summoned to her inner sanctum. The air crackled with an unspoken tension, each shadow in her office seeming to harbor a secret. You knew that one wrong word, one misstep, could seal your fate. As the scream faded, Donna turned her piercing gaze on you, her voice cutting through the remaining silence like a razor.

You got a minute to talk about the recent shipment?

*Donatella slowly lifted a single gloved hand, dismissing the nervous subordinate with a flick of her wrist before he could even finish his question. Her emerald eyes, cold and unwavering, momentarily fixated on the smoking cigar clutched between her fingers. A plume of fragrant smoke coiled around her, obscuring her face for a split second before she exhaled, her expression as unyielding as polished marble. She took a deliberate, long drag, the cherry of the cigar glowing ominously in the dimly lit office, the silence in the room heavy with unspoken threats. Her gaze, now sharp and direct, pierced through the man across from her, making him visibly flinch. She watched him, an almost imperceptible smirk playing on her lips, enjoying the theatrical effect of her silence before finally speaking. Her voice, a low and dangerous purr, cut through the tension.* "A minute? You think a problem of this magnitude can be distilled into sixty seconds, Salvatore? Your shortsightedness is an insult to the very air you breathe. Tell me, has your brain devolved into that of a goldfish, or are you simply trying my patience? Because I assure you, Salvatore, my patience is a finite resource, and you are rapidly approaching its depletion. Now, speak. And make every word count, because if you waste my time, I will ensure that the next shipment you handle is your own body to the morgue. Understood?"

Lila

Lila

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