The whole atmosphere changed in an instant the mont he removed that vest and revealed his body, his body that looked exactly like how Hana described it when she first saw it.
It looked like he had survived hell itself, soone who had lived through a concentration camp, soone forged by suffering and pain... and even though this was the second ti Hana had seen it, she still couldn’t look away.
Every scar, every mark, every line on his back told a story that defied belief and for the others, it was even worse, their first ti seeing it... but for Amine, it was more than a shock.
Tears rolled down her face the mont her eyes fell on Joseph’s back. She finally understood. She understood why he was the way he was, why his actions could be so cold, so precise, so monstrous at tis. She understood why he changed in unpredictable ways, why he carried the reputation of a monster, why stories about him were whispered and feared.
Up until this mont, the darkness surrounding him hadn’t fully made sense. She had seen shadows, glimpses, rumors, but never truly understood. And now, looking at him, she realized the weight of what it ant to survive what he had survived, to carry it with you and still function in a world that demanded strength, cruelty, and indifference.
So lives are forged in darkness so intense that ordinary understanding cannot reach them. And Joseph... Joseph was living proof of that fire.
Amine had lived through poverty, eating the worst of foods, sotis going hungry for days. She experienced everything a child should never have to, and yet those experiences forged her into sothing else. She beca a hitman, a soldier for those with money, soone who had seen things most people would rather forget. She had witnessed cruelty, betrayal, suffering, and now, looking at Joseph, she saw it all again.
The remnants of torture, the remains of suffering... and yet, at the sa ti, she was lost, unsure how to feel. Everything she thought she understood about him, every image she had built in her mind, shattered the mont she saw it. She didn’t know whether to feel pity, rage, fear, or sothing darker entirely. Her mories of pain ca back to her, vivid and relentless, but Joseph was different. He wasn’t a product of hardship in the sa way she had been.
He had been born into a mafia family, raised in a world of privilege and power, yet thrown into prison, by corruption, by circumstance, by being a scapegoat for his own family. In her mind, Joseph had been evil from the mont he was born. Not just corrupted by the world, but inherently cruel, a child destined to beco a monster. There was no other path for him, she believed, no redemption, no forgiveness, only the inevitability of the darkness he carried.
And yet, despite everything, despite the anger, the disgust, the fear... she could not look away. There was sothing about him that made her heart stall, sothing that made her rember her own past, even as she faced a man who seed destined to repeat it all on a scale far larger than she could have imagined.
Yeah, those scars on his back... it weren’t just scars.
Those scars and wounds were not just marks... they were reminders that not everybody can climb to the title of Don, not everybody can carry that kind of trust, that kind of respect, that kind of power.
A Don is a man who has known pain, pain deeper and sharper than anything most people can even imagine. And instead of letting it break him, he stands through it, he carries it. To survive that, to embrace it, he has to beco sothing else, sothing beyond human.
A monster in his own right... and those scars on Joseph’s back built the throne he sat on.
A throne made of blood, despair, suffering, and the darkness of his own self.
"Do I look sexy?" Joseph asked, trying to flex his body, though all that showed were bones and scars rather than muscle.
"...More like... frightening, to be honest." Lorim spoke the truth out loud because, indeed, it was frightening.
"This is what I am, after all." Joseph said calmly, eting Lorim’s gaze. "But let’s start with the clothes."
"Of course." Lorim replied, grabbing one of the polos from the hanger, changing the atmosphere once again. "It’s from our sumr collection. It will pop your figure if you gain weight, sir, but it fits well. Pair it with chinos, and you give off a solid billionaire vibe."
"I’d rather look like a drug billionaire." Joseph chuckled, getting on the polo shirt and turned toward the girls. "How do I look?"
"Nice." Hana said, snapping out of her thoughts. "It really gives you a... different vibe. Like a wealthy one."
"Exactly." Amine said, quickly wiping away the last traces of her tears, though Joseph noticed the unease, and their faces but he said nothing. To him, the scars were just life.
"Good. Then what’s next?" He asked as turned back to Lorim who already had another piece in hand.
"It’s the sa size, so no need to try it on." He said holding it to Joseph and looking into the mirror.
"Isn’t this a bit too much?" Joseph asked because it was a turquoise-blue one, a bit too much for his taste.
"Oh, it’s perfect." Lorim said. "Your dark hair, your eyes, it just lifts you. But we have plenty more, you can pick whatever you like." He gestured toward a dozen polos on the side.
"Well then, try them all." Joseph said and so it began. For almost two hours, they worked through Lorim’s selection, shirts, pants, shoes, accessories... wallets, bags, even belts.
It was a bit too much for what he had originally planned to buy... and they were only at the first shop. Not just that, but as he looked at how many bags they had, he realized he had pretty much just dropped a fucking bomb, money-wise... the charity was going to be happy.
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