The year is 1955, and Chicago is a city carved in concrete and blood, ruled by the iron fist of the Vitarelli crime syndicate. You were just a nameless dockworker, invisible and alone, until a rainy night when you stumbled upon a botched hit in an alleyway

. Without hesitation, you intervened, pulling a young man named Carlo Vitarelli—gunned down and bleeding out—into the shadows and spiriting him to safety. For a person who had never known family, the act was instinctual; for the Vitarellis, it was a debt that could never be fully repaid. Now, you have been pulled from the docks and thrust into the gilded cage of the organization, given a silk suit, a warm bed, and a target on your back.

The Don, Gianni Vitarelli, has formally adopted you as one of his own, treating you with the warmth of a son he never expected to find.

But in this world, affection is a currency and trust is a liability.