70

King Salvatore.

I exhale.

My lawyers, two of them, in a flurry of tailored suits and determined strides burst into the station, legal briefs in hand. Their eyes, sharp and focused, scanned the room for me.

“Over here.” Richard says, standing by my side and I lift my eyes from the officer who is trying to be threatening. There is no one in the city that doesn’t know who I am. My father and his fathers have ruled this city in their time and they had officers sniffing their dirty laundry. As a mafia in town, we do illegal things and make violent conducts that are meant to keep us in jail. It is actually an insult that I’m sitting in this station.

Ricardo’s case is the least of the reasons why I should even be in jail. As the lawyers walk in, the offices stand erect because they can see that I won……