Chapter 7
By three o'clock the following afternoon, the grand marble hall of the Moretti compound was filled with thirty senior members of the syndicate council. High chandeliers illuminated the long oak table where the elders sat in dark suits, their faces grim and expectant.
At the head of the table sat Vincent Moretti, impeccably dressed in his tailored black suit, his hands resting calmly on the table.
Standing beside him were Clara and little Ellie. Clara was no longer wearing her maid uniform. Vincent had insisted she wear a stunning dark green silk dress, her soft brown hair styled elegantly over her shoulders. She looked breathtaking, dignified, and no longer afraid.
In the center of the hall, guarded by four heavily armed loyal officers, stood Dante. His navy suit was rumpled, his hair messy, his hands secured behind his back.
"Elders of the council," Vincent announced, his deep voice carrying through the cavernous hall. "We are gathered today to settle a debt that has remained open for five years."
Elder Don Carmine, a silver-haired man in his seventies, leaned forward. "Vincent, you accuse your own brother of treason and the murder of Marco Romano. Do you have proof?"
Vincent clicked a button on a remote. The large display screen behind the table illuminated, displaying the complete banking logs from the Cayman Islands, alongside recorded audio files retrieved from Dante’s private drive.
Dante’s own voice echoed through the hall speakers, clearly laying out the coordinates of Marco's transport five years ago to the Falcone family in exchange for two million dollars.
Gasping and angry murmurs erupted across the council table.
"He framed Marco Romano," Vincent continued, looking directly at Dante. "He used Marco’s widow, Clara, as an unwitting servant to hide his evidence, threatening her child for three years to keep her silent."
Elder Carmine stood up, his face filled with disgust as he looked at Dante. "Treason against the family. Extortion of a widow and child. Dante Moretti, you are stripped of your name, your rank, and your holdings in this city."
Dante hung his head, unable to meet the cold, condemning eyes of the council.
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"Take him away," Carmine ordered. "He will spend the rest of his life in the upstate facility, answering for every dollar he stole."
As the guards dragged Dante out of the hall, the elders stood up one by one, bowing their heads in deep respect toward Vincent—and toward Clara, who stood tall and proud beside him.
