His passion

"Boss! Don Henrik just called!" Dean said urgently as he rushed into the room. He is Maverick's most trusted man-always by his side. "He said you need to go home right away. He has something important to tell you."

With his back turned to Dean, Maverick held a cigarette loosely between his fingers, the tip glowing faintly. Smoke slowly curled around him as he took one final drag, then crushed the cigarette in the ashtray. After a moment, he turned around, his sharp eyes fixed on Dean.

"What kind of announcement?" Maverick asked in a firm, cold voice.

Dean lowered his head slightly, showing respect. "He didn't say, Boss. He just told me to tell you to return to the mansion immediately. He said it's urgent."

Maverick's jaw tightened. His right hand curled into a fist at his side. He had a strange feeling in his chest. Deep down, he already had a guess about what this was all about.

"Alright," he said, voice hard. "Get the car ready. I'm leaving now."

"Yes, Boss!" Dean nodded quickly and hurried out of the room.

Maverick walked over to the coat rack and grabbed his black leather jacket. He slipped it on smoothly, then carefully tucked two handguns into his waistband. The weapons were hidden well under his jacket-no one would be able to see them.

El Cuervo Blanco wasn't just any gang. It was powerful, feared, and involved in all sorts of crimes-assassinations, bribing government officials, illegal gambling, controlling labor groups, loan sharking, fraud, and even tricking the stock market.

Maverick's father, Don Henrik, had built the organization from the ground up and later passed the leadership to his only son. At first, Maverick didn't want the job. He didn't like the idea of living in the shadows, surrounded by danger and blood. But in the end, he had no choice. He is the only child of Henrik and Carmilla Cuervo.

Another reason he accepted the role was because of a broken heart. The woman he had loved for so long never loved him back. Hurt and full of anger, he threw himself into the brutal training his father forced upon him. He hardened himself, both in body and mind.

He always followed his father's orders. He never said no. The only thing that continued to haunt him was the mystery of his parents' divorce. He had never been told the reason, and it tore him silently, even now.

As they drove through the city toward the mansion, Maverick sat quietly in the back seat. His mind raced.

"Do you really have no idea what this announcement is really about?" he asked Dean, his voice low, full of tension.

Dean shook his head. "Not at all, Boss. Lately, your father's been acting strange. He doesn't even take Sigfrid along anymore-and you know how close they are."

Maverick's eyes narrowed. Sigfrid was Don Henrik's most loyal bodyguard. Something serious was going on.

Maverick sighed deeply and leaned back in his seat, his mind full of dark thoughts he wished he could ignore.

When they reached the mansion, something felt off. Everything was quiet-too quiet. Unlike the last time there was big news, there were no crowds, no noise, no signs of a celebration or party.

Back when his parents announced their separation, the house had been filled with people, music, and expensive wine. That had been a show for the public. But now? The silence suggested that whatever was coming was meant only for family.

Dean quickly got out of the car and opened the door for his boss. Maverick stepped out and adjusted his jacket. His face was serious as he walked toward the tall, elegant double doors of the mansion.

He stepped inside.

"Sorry I'm late, Dad," he said respectfully, even though part of him still carried resentment over the divorce.

Henrik stood calmly in the grand hallway. "No worries," he said in a steady voice. "You're just in time. They're about to arrive."

Maverick's eyes narrowed in confusion. "They?"

He had assumed that the meeting would be something to do with business. But now he was unsure.

"You'll see, son," Henrik said softly. Then he turned and walked toward the front doors.

Just then, the sound of car horns echoed from outside. The vehicles were getting closer. Maverick stood still, staring at the door, bracing himself for what-or who-was coming.

At forty-eight years old, Don Henrik still looked impressive. Most men his age showed signs of slowing down, but not him. He stood tall and strong, with broad shoulders and a firm body that showed he still trained hard. He even had visible abs-a sign that he never gave up on staying in shape. His sharp jawline, salt-and-pepper hair, and intense eyes made him look both handsome and powerful. It was easy to forget he was nearly fifty.