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His hair was silvering, and he sat behind a mahogany desk, his suit without a wrinkle, he possessed a vitality uncommon for his age. If one were to only look at his eyes, they might think they belonged to an industrialist in his prime.
By his side, a golden retriever crouched, its fur shiny but seemingly ferocious, only wagging its tail and showing a submissive attitude when Stone entered.
In the gang, they all called him Godfather because many high-ranking gang members ...
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