A dimly lit apartment, overflowing with antique furniture and faded photographs. NONNA FRANCESCA, 80s, sharp-witted and surprisingly spry, sits at a cluttered table, surrounded by old photo albums. Franco sits opposite her, a mixture of curiosity and apprehension on his face. NONNA FRANCESCA So, you want to know the truth, eh? About the Diantes? FRANCO Nonna, please. Mama said... Nonna Francesca waves a dismissive hand, gesturing to a photo album. She opens it, revealing a picture of two younger men, looking strikingly similar to Franco and Diante. NONNA FRANCESCA Your great-grandfathers. Best friends, until they weren't. She flips through the album, revealing pictures of lavish parties, slowly transitioning into images of damaged property and police cars. The smiles fade, replaced with scowls and tense stares. NONNA FRANCESCA It all started with a salad, you know. A Caesar salad.