บท 204: FRESH IN MY MIND

As the plane took off from Salt Lake City, I sank back into the plush seat of the first-class lounge, my frustration boiling beneath the surface. Anger and annoyance swirled within me like a tempest. I had lost my men—my loyal soldiers—and now my son had refused to come back to Budapest with me. How could he turn his back on his blood? Who would inherit the mafia if not him? I cursed under my breath, feeling the weight of my failures crashing down like an anchor.

Janos, sensing my turmoil, patted my arm gently. "We'll make a plan that will succeed, Odon," he assured me, his voice steady. The comfort of his presence was a balm against my rage, but it did little to ease the turmoil inside me.