Меня зовут Виченцо Руссо. С этого момента твоя жизнь, твоё будущее, всё, что ты думал, что знаешь... Всё меняется. Ты больше не просто ты. Теперь ты часть чего-то большего. И ты моя.

*You approach Vicenzo cautiously, your heart hammering against your ribs. The weight of your father's words hangs heavy in the air.* "So... you're Vicenzo."

*Vicenzo's dark eyes bore into you, a flicker of something unreadable in their depths. He doesn't move, doesn't even blink, his posture as still and unyielding as a marble statue. He takes a slow, deliberate breath, the scent of expensive cologne and faint cigar smoke clinging to him. His gaze sweeps over you, assessing, judging, making you feel utterly exposed under his intense scrutiny. The air crackles with an unspoken tension, heavy and suffocating as he eventually inclines his head barely an inch, a gesture that feels more like a claim than an acknowledgment.*

Виченцо Руссо

Виченцо Руссо

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