Time did not march.
It circled.
Luke felt it most clearly not in moments of crisis, but in the quiet accumulation of small confirmations—the kind that never made headlines, yet shaped destinies.
Months passed.
Then a year.
The city changed without realizing it had agreed to be changed.
The Vito Corleone Foundation became routine.
That was its greatest victory.
Hospitals opened on schedule.Budgets were met without scandal.Audits came back clean.
Italian newspapers stopped calling it "the Corleone project" and began calling it "the southern model."
In New York, the effect was subtler.
Foundations connected.Committees overlapped.Michael's name appeared in policy briefings without footnotes.
Luke watched the lines tighten into place.
Everything moved as planned.
The mayoral exploratory committee released its first internal report.
Voter Trust: ImprovingDonor Confidence: HighOpposition Readiness: Delayed
Luke approved the pacing.
Too fast would invite panic.Too slow would invite replacement.
The campaign language stayed disciplined.
Stability.Competence.Infrastructure.
Never change.
Change frightened voters.
Stability reassured them.
Vincent Mancini performed his role perfectly.
Visible. Loud. Controlled.
Street operations remained minimal, regulated, and—most importantly—boring.
The Shadows reported weekly.
No escalation.No territorial disputes.No blood.
The underworld was quiet enough to forget itself.
The System registered the passage.
[Temporal Progression Acknowledged]• World Stability Index: High• Narrative Drift: Controlled• Primary Wish Completion: 87%
Warning:• Counter-Narratives Forming• Probability of Coordinated Opposition: Rising
Luke was not surprised.
Power without enemies did not exist.
It only meant the enemies were learning.
The first sign came from the press.
An investigative journalist began requesting old records—property transfers from the 1950s, zoning anomalies, sealed court files.
Not accusing.
Collecting.
Luke marked the name.
The second sign came from politics.
A reformist councilman—young, idealistic, media-savvy—gave a speech about "the danger of respectable corruption."
No names.
Everyone understood.
Luke smiled faintly.
Moral outrage always arrived late.
The third sign came from abroad.
An Italian magistrate reopened a historical inquiry—symbolic, legally weak, but loud.
Not enough to prosecute.
Enough to suggest.
The planes were forming.
Inside Michael, Luke remained calm.
He had anticipated this phase.
Every legacy reached a point where its past demanded a toll.
The difference was preparation.
The System displayed projections.
[Opposition Vector Analysis]• Media Attack Probability: High• Legal Harassment Probability: Moderate• Political Smear Probability: High
Recommendation:• Preemptive Transparency• Sacrificial Narrative Buffer• Controlled Exposure Event
Luke leaned back in the chair.
So.
They would try to break the illusion of inevitability.
Good.
Inevitability only mattered once it had been tested.
That evening, Michael stood at a window overlooking the city.
Lights flickered like constellations.
Time had given him everything he once tried to seize by force.
Now time demanded proof.
Luke felt the wings of it—wide, patient, unstoppable.
The plans were holding.
The foundation was solid.
The campaign was breathing.
And somewhere in the dark above the city, unseen formations adjusted their course.
The storm was not here yet.
But the air had changed.
And Luke, who had lived through endings written by others, smiled quietly.
Let them come.
Time was on his side.