Chapter 11 - shifting power

An hour later, back at the Bellaro mansion, Dominic sat at his master desk. The encrypted flash drive was plugged into his secure terminal. Mateo stood beside him as screen after screen of decrypted financial data flashed past.
"File four," Dominic commanded, typing rapidly.
A scanned document opened on the monitor. It was a contract signed seven years ago, transferring forty percent of the Bellaro shipping terminal rights to Victor Moretti.
At the bottom of the contract was the official signature of the Don of the Bellaro family.
Dominic froze. The signature wasn't his. It wasn't his father's either.
It was signed by Sophia Bellaro—dated three days after Dominic's brother had died in an ambush.
"Sophia," Dominic muttered, his eyes narrowing. "She didn't just read a script. She's been selling off syndicate assets for seven years."
"Boss," Mateo said, stepping forward. "What do we do with Vivienne and Sophia?"
Dominic stood up, buttoning his tuxedo jacket. "Call an emergency meeting of the syndicate council for three o'clock this morning. Every caporegime and family boss in New York must attend."
At 3:00 AM, inside the subterranean council chamber beneath Saint Patrick's Cathedral, twelve powerful mafia leaders sat around a massive round table. Armed guards lined the stone walls.
Dominic walked into the room, stepping up to the head of the table. He threw the heavy stack of printed financial manifests onto the center of the wood.
"Effective immediately," Dominic announced, his deep voice reverberating off the stone walls, "Sophia Bellaro is stripped of all family authority. Vivienne Bellaro is removed from my house and exiled from New York under penalty of death."
Murmurs rippled across the room.
Dominic slammed his fist onto the table, silencing the council instantly. "And let this be known to every family represented in this room: my daughter, Maisie Bellaro, is my sole legal and blood heir. Anyone who attempts to touch her, question her bloodline, or interfere with her inheritance will be hunted down and eliminated."
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At the far end of the table, Victor Moretti stood up slowly. A cruel smile spread across his weathered face as he adjusted his ring.
"You speak bold words, Bellaro," Moretti sneered. "But you won't survive the twenty-four hour contest."