Vincenzo Dante Volkov;I had every intention of skipping dinner, and I told my mother as much. But, as usual, her tears and dramatic pleas were impossible to ignore. Somehow, she even managed to drag Little Mouse into it, who gently insisted we should go.And now, here I am, sitting amidst the Volkovs, feeling like an outsider in my own family. My gaze drifted to my father, his expression unreadable as he silently worked through his plate.“Vince, aren’t you eating? I spent hours cooking this meal for everyone,” my mother said softly, her hand squeezing my shoulder.I glanced at her, expecting my father to speak—maybe a snide remark, a glare, anything to remind me of my unwelcome presence. Instead, he remained silent.“Thank you, Ma,” I replied with a forced smile. She leaned in to kiss my cheek before taking her seat again.“How’s your company doing, Vince? I’ve been hearing a lot about Prime Estates lately,” Lorenzo piped up, his tone light but probing.Before I could respond, my mo
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