Meanwhile, Tommy sat on the couch in the penthouse suite.

His forearms rested on his thighs as he sat deep in thought. The expression on his face was nothing like the one he had worn throughout the day.

Even the burst of hoy brought by Primo, and the fury he’d felt upon seeing Lucian earlier, was nothing compared to what he was feeling now.

Just the thought of Marshal left a bitter taste in his mouth.

Although his men had reported that Marshal wasn’t personally in the country, simply knowing that Marshal’s people had been operating near him and Liza was already unacceptable.

"That bastard..." he muttered under his breath.

His grip around the whiskey glass tightened until it trembled.

"I shouldn’t have settled for just a warning."

Tommy hissed before finishing the rest of his drink in one swallow.

It had been years since he’d heard anything about Marshal or the Di Carpios.

The two organizations operated on opposite sides of the world. That distance alone was enough to keep the two men from crossing paths.

As Tommy reached for the bottle to pour himself another drink, the doorbell suddenly rang.

He raised a brow and turned toward the entrance.

"Who could that be?"

Pushing himself off the couch, Tommy made his way to the door.

He didn’t even bother checking the peephole. Nor did he think it could be an enemy.

Anyone harboring ill intent would’ve never gotten past the layers of security surrounding him.

So, when he opened the door, surprise immediately crossed his face.

"What are you doing here?"

His eyes instinctively dropped to his watch before lifting again.

"At this hour... Lucian?"

Lucian quietly looked back at him. His expression remained as unreadable as ever. Yet his presence was completely different from the first time they had met in that empty restaurant.

"I was worried," Lucian said without any preamble.

"Earlier... you seemed furious." He paused before meeting Tommy’s eyes. "Not just furious. You seemed furious at me."

"It bothered me. So I came."

Tommy’s brows slowly rose. He genuinely hadn’t expected that.

"I came to apologize," Lucian continued in the same calm tone. "If I did something wrong. My wife and son adore both of you. I don’t want to become the reason that changes."

Tommy stared at him for a long moment.

Then he suddenly burst into laughter.

"Hahaha!" He shook his head.

Lucian frowned slightly in confusion.

Finally, Tommy smiled and nodded.

"You didn’t have to. Now, I feel horrible," he let out a weary chuckle.

"I was furious. But I suppose... I was really angry at myself for being furious." He sighed. "Deep down, I know I’m overstepping. And I know it isn’t right."

Tommy stepped aside and opened the door wider.

"Since you’re already here..." He smiled faintly. "Care to have a drink with this old man?"

Lucian didn’t hesitate.

He simply nodded.

Tommy gestured him inside before following after him.

As Lucian entered the living room, his eyes immediately fell on the open bottle of whiskey.

A single glass sat on the coffee table beside a bucket of ice.

That alone was enough to tell him Tommy had already been drinking for quite some time.

"Sit wherever you like," Tommy called while heading toward the kitchen. "I’m getting you a glass."

Lucian took a seat and quietly looked around.

From what he knew, Tommy had stopped drinking years ago.

Whether he had quit completely or only drank occasionally, Lucian wasn’t certain.

Still, he understood.

Men like Tommy usually reached for alcohol only when something weighed heavily on their minds. Lucian knew that because he used to reach for a cigarette for anything.

A few moments later, Tommy returned carrying another glass and a fresh bucket of ice.

He set everything down before sitting where he’d been earlier.

"I’ll pour it," Lucian offered.

Tommy shook his head.

"It’s alright, son." He waved him off while filling both glasses. "At least let me do this much after overstepping."

"You haven’t," Lucian replied.

Tommy glanced at him briefly. "You only say that because you don’t know."

He handed Lucian his glass before picking up his own.

Leaning back, Tommy slowly swirled the amber liquid. His eyes remained fixed on it.

"I don’t know whether I’m simply getting old... or whether I’m still clinging to something I told myself I had already let go."

He let out a slow breath.

"Who would’ve thought? After spending decades convincing myself that the past belongs in the past... that nothing could ever change it..." he trailed off.

"...I’d end up losing my mind over someone who isn’t even my own flesh and blood."

Lucian quietly listened before taking a small sip.

"Blood isn’t what matters," he said softly. "Especially in our world."

In the underground, the people who mattered weren’t always those related by blood.

They were the ones who remained beside them.

Not only during good times, but especially during the worst.

Tommy smiled.

"Haha." He nodded lightly. "You’re right."

His quiet chuckle echoed through the room as he took another drink.

Silence settled between them.

Until, eventually, Lucian broke it.

"Then why were you angry for being angry?"

Tommy raised a brow. "I was hoping you wouldn’t ask."

"It bothered me," Lucian answered simply. "That answer bothered me."

He wasn’t referring to his reason for coming.

Both of them understood exactly what he meant.

Tommy drew a deep breath and studied the younger man for a long moment before taking another sip.

"Your wife." He finally spoke. "When I heard what Liza told Ashley... it infuriated me."

He laughed at himself.

"I honestly don’t know why. I don’t even understand why I became so fond of her." He rocked his head.

"I could list every good thing she’s done for us. Every admirable quality she has, but none of those explain why... I feel so protective of her."

He lowered his eyes.

"Maybe, she reminds me of Liza and me when we were young." He shrugged. "A little of both of us."

He smiled faintly.

"Or... maybe it’s because our daughter would’ve been around her age.. if she were still alive."

Tommy scoffed bitterly. His jaw tightened as unpleasant memories filled his mind.

When he spoke again, there was no warmth left in his voice.

"Had that bastard Marshal Di Carpio stayed in his own lane, she would’ve been alive."