The Sydney sun streamed through my apartment window, landing on the freshly wiped floors. I slipped into a simple cotton dress, planning to head downstairs to the local supermarket to get some flour.Tonight, I thought I'd try baking a cake.As I walked by the bushes outside my apartment building, a weak "meow" made me stop in my tracks.I crouched down, pushing aside the dense green leaves. In a discarded plastic drainage pipe, I found a pair of amber eyes, wide with fear.It was an orange kitten, so skinny you could count its bones. Its right hind leg was bent at an odd angle, dried blood caking the fur around it.My breath hitched as I spotted the almost broken leather collar around its neck. There, embedded in it, was a small, worn silver medallion.I would recognize that pattern anywhere. It was the private seal of my grandfather, the former Don of the Rossi family. He'd had this design made just for himself, something he kept hidden. What was it doing here? In Sydney? On a dying
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