Freezing instantly, she stopped before handing the damaged cane to the mafia boss.

The grand clock in the foyer chimed the hour, its deep, resonating notes echoing through the open archways of the dining hall. The guests began to settle as the final plates of the main course were cleared away by the diligent household staff. The air in the room grew heavy with anticipation. This was not merely a dinner; it was a political gathering designed to project strength. Dante’s injury had shown the rival families a momentary vulnerability, and tonight was orchestrated to erase that perceived weakness completely.

Cressida gracefully rose to her feet, tapping her polished silver knife gently against her crystal glass. The bright, clear ringing sound commanded the immediate attention of everyone in the room. The low murmur of conversation instantly died away, leaving only the soft crackle of the marble fireplace.

"Friends, family, and esteemed associates," Cressida began, projecting her voice with the practiced elegance of a woman born into syndicate royalty. "We are gathered here tonight to celebrate more than just a successful medical procedure. We are here to celebrate resilience. My beloved Dante has faced a terrible trial, but he has emerged victorious, as he always does."

"Do you believe victory is achieved merely by surviving?" Dante asked softly, his deep voice carrying easily in the quiet room. He leaned back in his champagne velvet chair, his hands resting on the carved walnut armrests. "Must a man not also stand on his own two feet to claim it?"

"Which is exactly why I have prepared a special gift for you tonight, my love," Cressida replied smoothly, ignoring the coldness in his tone. She gestured toward the far end of the room. "A symbol of your recovery. A tool to help you reclaim your rightful place at the head of this family, strong and unbowed."

She turned her head slightly, her diamond earrings flashing in the luminous light. "Mara? Bring the presentation box forward, please."

Mara stepped out from her position against the ivory-paneled walls. Her heart fluttered nervously against her ribs as she walked to a side table and retrieved a long, velvet-lined box. Her delicate fingers trembled slightly as she carried it toward the head table. Her careful, restrained gestures always revealed a deep, innate vulnerability, one that constantly drew Dante's protective attention.

"What exactly have you commissioned for me, Cressida?" Dante questioned, his sharp jawline setting into a firm, inquisitive angle as he watched Mara approach.

"Only the finest craftsmanship for the finest man," Cressida declared, her reassuring smile firmly in place. "A polished wooden walking cane, customized to your precise measurements. Solid oak, reinforced, and topped with a silver handle. It will support your weight entirely as your leg finishes healing."

Mara stopped beside Dante’s chair. She opened the velvet box, revealing the beautifully polished dark wood of the cane. A broad, ornate presentation ribbon was tied tightly just beneath the silver handle, concealing the upper shaft.