He tilted his head slightly, his tone dripping with sarcasm.
"Tell you what. You can keep that. Consider it a thank-you for all the sacrifices you made for me and the kids. Should be enough for your retirement."
A wave of shocked gasps rippled through the crowd.
"If it weren't for Seraphina," someone whispered, unable to hold back, "his mother wouldn't even be alive."
"He'd still be a nobody," another voice added. "No territory, no standing, nothing. He wouldn't be sitting at the head of any table without the Valentes."
"They dragged him out of poverty, and he turned around and cleaned them out. Played his cards perfectly. Poor Don Salvatore…"
"And look at him now," someone else muttered bitterly. "Grinning like he just hit the jackpot."
Nico's smug smile stretched wider and wider, his satisfaction almost grotesque.
Then—
Smack!
The sharp crack echoed through the banquet hall like a gunshot, cutting through every whisper and every breath. Every soldier along the walls went rigid. Hands drifted toward waistbands on instinct.
"You bastard!"