Chapter 58 War On All Fronts

The room was dim, lit only by the soft, golden glow of the desk lamp. Aemilio sat behind the large, dark wood desk, his fingers steepled beneath his chin. His eyes were cold, calculating, and sharp as he listened to Bruno's report. Outside, the soft hum of the city pulsed in the distance, but inside, the mansion felt like a fortress of steel and silence. The only sound was Bruno's steady voice, recounting the series of fires that had ravaged Raimundo's empire. "First, it was the factory in the north. It went up in flames yesterday. Some kind of electrical failure, or so they say," Bruno explained. "Then, almost immediately after, his weed plantation was hit. That was no accident. His workers said it smelled of gasoline before the flames started."