Chapter 6 - The Poison in the Wine
The truth hung in the quiet safe room like a golden light wiping away four years of dark shadows.
Sophia wept softly, leaning her forehead against Alessandro’s broad shoulder as the weight of her daughter's true identity washed over her heart. Alessandro held her gently, his broad arm offering an immovable shield of safety.
By Saturday evening, the news of the failed raid had shaken the Chicago underworld.
To settle the feud once and for all, Alessandro summoned the four primary bosses of the Chicago Syndicate Council to a formal summit at the Moretti estate. The grand dining room was prepared with crystal stemware, polished silverware, and vintage wine.
At eight o'clock, the four rival bosses arrived under heavy security escorts, taking their seats around the massive mahogany table. Among them was Don Marco Valenti—a sharp-faced, sixty-year-old crime lord in a grey suit, his eyes cold and arrogant.
Alessandro sat at the head of the table, dressed in his dark navy suit, his luxury watch glinting under the chandelier light.
Sophia stood near the side server, dressed in a dignified navy dress provided by the estate stylist, while three-year-old Emma sat quietly in a corner armchair, coloring in a picture book with her watercolors.
"Alessandro," Don Marco began smoothly, pouring himself a glass of vintage red wine. "We came here to discuss the South Chicago docks. Your estate manager Vincent is in federal custody, and your shipping routes are vulnerable. The Council demands a redistribution of the harbor shares."
Alessandro leaned back in his leather chair, his dark eyes unblinking as he looked at Don Marco. "The docks remain under Moretti control, Marco."
"You don't have the leverage anymore, Alessandro!" Marco countered, raising his crystal glass for a toast. "To a peaceful resolution of the Chicago borders."
The four bosses raised their glasses. Alessandro picked up his own crystal glass of red wine, lifting it toward the table.
Suddenly, little Emma set her paintbrush down. She stood up from her armchair, walked calmly to the center of the dining room, and pointed her tiny finger directly at Don Marco’s crystal glass.
"Don't drink that, Mr. Alessandro," Emma said in her sweet, clear voice. "The grey man put bitter dust from his ring into your glass before you sat down."
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The entire dining room went dead silent.
Don Marco’s glass froze halfway to his lips, his sharp face turning as white as a sheet.
