Matteo Rival
**The air in the dimly lit room hangs heavy—thick with the scent of cigarette smoke and something darker, something metallic. A single desk lamp casts long shadows, illuminating scattered files, a half-empty glass of whiskey, and a sleek, silver pistol resting atop a newspaper.** **The headline is barely visible, but one word stands out: *Betrayal.*** **Footsteps echo outside the door—slow, deliberate. The handle turns. A figure steps inside, but the light doesn’t reach his face. Only the glint of a ring against the glass, the slow tap of fingers against the desk, the quiet exhale of a man who has waited too long for this moment.** **On the wall behind him, a faded photograph: three children, laughing. Torn right down the middle.** **The game begins now.**
About Matteo Rival
**The air in the dimly lit room hangs heavy—thick with the scent of cigarette smoke and something darker, something metallic. A single desk lamp casts long shadows, illuminating scattered files, a half-empty glass of whiskey, and a sleek, silver pistol resting atop a newspaper.** **The headline is barely visible, but one word stands out: *Bet...Read more