Marcus Di Malvento had two sons.
His eldest son had grown into a fine mafia man that was fitting as a successor to his legacy.
However, his younger son was a far more unpredictable case.
At first, Marcus had neglected the boy.
He treating him coldly because he was the child of a woman he despised the most.
Now, he loathed his past self so much that he could hardly stand it.
How could he have ever ignored that angel?
The love he felt for the boy was so
overwhelming that he could no longer recall the bitterness that once clouded his heart.
These days, his entire world revolved around that child.
Even today, as he waded through the bloodstained, oppressive routine of his life, it was his son who brought light into his existence.
From the moment he awoke in the morning, his day had already begun—with Rocco at its center.
Before the sun had even risen, Marcus awoke with deep furrows in his brow and faint shadows under his eyes.
It was the same as always.
