The last time I saw Victor Pierro was the day he bought the Biao casino. My father made a whole big thing of it, throwing a huge party in the Biao ballroom and giving speeches to the guests, going on and on about how he saw Victor’s potential all along. How he’d built his protege up from nothing, just like the family business.

Bullshit, obviously. A man like Victor isn’t built from the outside, he’s forged from within. I tried to warn my father about that, begged him to let me rewrite his speech, but he wouldn’t allow it. And for that whole party, I cringed at every patronizing word...