Chapter 11 - the ghost's wake
The council chamber remained frozen in absolute silence long after the phone line clicked dead.
Dominic stared at his phone screen, his pulse hammering against his ribs, though his face remained a mask of dark stone.
Don Victor Moretti slowly sank back into his chair, his eyes wide with an emotion no one in the room had ever seen on his face before: pure, unadulterated fear.
"Carmine..." Moretti whispered, his voice trembling slightly. "That... that's impossible. He died in my arms thirty years ago."
Dominic didn't answer Moretti. He grabbed the leather journal off the table, turned on his heel, and walked out of the council chamber, gesturing for his guards to bring Leo along.
Twenty minutes later, three black armored SUVs raced Upstate toward the Bellacorte family cemetery in Westchester. The rain had cleared, leaving a thick, eerie fog hanging over the stone monuments.
Dominic stepped out of the vehicle, holding a flashlight. Leo walked beside him, his hands still cuffed, his mind visibly reeling from the revelation in the council chamber.
"Dominic," Leo said, his voice quiet, hollowed out by the emotional shock. "Is it true? Am I Moretti's son?"
Dominic stopped in front of a grand marble mausoleum stamped with the Bellacorte crest. "Our father raised you as his own, Leo. That's all that matters to me."
Dominic gestured to Mateo and four guards holding crowbars and tactical lights. "Open the vault."
The guards inserted heavy iron levers into the seam of Carmine Bellacorte's stone tomb, straining until the ancient concrete seal cracked open with a loud groan. They slid the heavy marble slab aside.
Dominic stepped inside the dark tomb, shining his flashlight onto the bronze coffin sitting on the central stone pedestal.
"Boss," Mateo warned softly. "Desecrating a Don's grave is forbidden by the Commission."
"My father called my phone thirty minutes ago, Mateo," Dominic replied coldly. "Open it."
The guards used heavy screwdrivers to unbolt the bronze latches of the coffin. They lifted the heavy lid.
Dominic swept his flashlight beam inside the velvet-lined casket.
The coffin was completely empty.
Resting on the white silk pillow where his father's head should have been was a single, heavy iron key and a fresh, uncreased piece of stationery stamped with the family seal.
May you like
Dominic reached inside and picked up the paper. Written in fresh black ink was a single line:
The vault at the estate holds the second half of the charter. Come alone.
