The lighting was dim. Expensive wine bottles cluttered the polished table, half-empty, their contents sloshing in crystal glasses. Cigarette smoke curled upward, lazily tracing the ceiling in slow spirals.
Five men sat in that room.
One of them leaned forward, grinning like a wolf. "Brother Damian, your plan worked like a charm. That bastard lawyer—Saito—he's under real heat now."
Another, broader man with slicked hair and a cigar tucked between his thick fingers, raised his glass with a grin. "You deserve the credit. You lined everything up perfectly. The court, the media, even the damn police—everyone thinks Saito doctored the will."
They burst into laughter again, toasting over their glasses.
Damian smirked, calm and sharp in his tailored gray suit. He sipped his drink, then spoke with quiet satisfaction. "They believe he changed the will. And when I 'found out'—he tried to silence me."
