Early

Early

~ VITTORIO’S POV ~

It’s early hours of the morning.

I wake up feeling… fulfilled.
It’s not a feeling I get often, but today it sits in my chest like something earned.

“Thank you.”
Elena’s words from yesterday echo quietly in my head, soft but stubborn.

It wasn’t much, just two words, yet they’ve refused to leave me alone. The way she said it, like it cost her something. Like she meant it. That tone has been living rent-free in my mind ever since.

I stretch my arms, waking up my muscles. They pull and tighten like steel being tested, reminding me I’m alive, grounded, and still in control.

I believe today will be better.
I don’t know why, but maybe because her words left something behind, maybe because I want to believe things can still shift for good.

I swing my legs off the bed, stand, and head toward the gym area.

The hallway is silent, except for the distant hum of morning activity. The smell of polish and freshly mopped floors. The house feels alive, alert, disciplined, and running on quiet energy.

“Good morning, sir.”
Every house worker I meet on my way greets me with their heads bowed.

I respond with a small nod or a wave of my hand, and they scatter quickly back to their duties. No one lingers. They know better.

This is how I like it….order, silence, and precision. Every person in this house knows their role. There’s comfort in that kind of structure. You can breathe properly when things are done right.

Inside the gym, the air is cooler. The metallic scent of iron and the faint echo of last night’s session still hang there. I start warming up my shoulders, arms, and legs. Movement sharpens the mind.

Then I begin to exercise in full.
Push-ups. Pull-ups. Weights. Punching bag.
Each motion has rhythm and reason. My heart pumps harder, and the sweat follows quickly, rolling down my back in thin lines. The sound of fists hitting leather fills the room.

What’s a mafia lord without strength?

Strength is more than muscle — it’s control, endurance, command. You can’t lead men or face enemies if you don’t know how to hold your own. I don’t train for pride. I train because it reminds me who I am and what I’ve built.

It’s barely six a.m., but I can already hear movement in the distance. The staff are awake —working, preparing, keeping the estate running like the machine I’ve made it to be.

Good.

I never hire incompetent.
There’s no room for carelessness here. In this world, one weak link can break everything you’ve built. So I choose people who understand precision, loyalty, silence.

I finish the last set, drop the dumbbells, and sit for a minute, catching my breath. The steady rhythm of my heartbeat feels almost… peaceful. I grab a towel, wipe my face, and take a slow drink of water.

The glass clinks softly when I set it down, and my thoughts circle back to her.

Elena.

What can I possibly do to melt that rage-filled heart of hers completely?

I don’t blame her for the way she looks at me sometimes — like she’s daring me to break the wall she’s built. She has her reasons. I’ve done things that don’t exactly earn forgiveness easily. But still, I want to reach her.

Yesterday, for the first time, she didn’t look at me with disgust. There was hesitation, but also something else — a flicker, small but real.

And then she said, “Thank you.”

Those two words replay now, over and over, while I stare at the floor. Maybe it wasn’t much to anyone else, but to me, it was a damn breakthrough. It was the first sign that she might be softening… or at least starting to see beyond the name I carry.

I lean back, thinking. My body might be cooling down, but my mind isn’t. It’s racing, searching for answers, ways to keep that fragile shift alive.

Giovanni.
He would know what to do.

After all, he was giving me a speech just yesterday.

The way he speaks sometimes makes it feel easy but it isn't.

After breakfast, I’ll go see him.

The decision settles in my chest like something firm. It’s not dramatic, not desperate…. just clear. Giovanni always knows how to simplify things that feel tangled.

I stand up and walk toward the balcony outside the gym. The morning light is finally breaking through, golden, quiet, and steady. The sky stretches wide and clean.

For a moment, I just breathe.

This house, this empire…..it all moves because I built it that way. But the one thing I can’t fully control is Elena. Honestly I don't even want to control her, I just want her to see me as her father once again.

I yawn for her to call me dad. And that's all I want.

So far my push for control has made her hate me even more.

If I had control over time, I would have done better.

I head back inside, towel still around my neck. The smell of breakfast drifts faintly down the hall. The staff move quietly, efficient as ever. A few guards stand stationed near the entrance, alert, focused, the way I trained them to be.

It’s strange how peaceful a morning can feel in a world built on tension and power. But I’ll take it. Peace is rare……even if it’s temporary.