Chapter 5 - The Gala of the Commission
The grand ballroom of the St. Regis Hotel was a shimmering palace of crystal chandeliers, polished marble, and high-society opulence. Dozens of syndicate bosses, corrupt politicians, and international power brokers mingled beneath vaulted ceilings, sipping vintage champagne.
Standing at the head table near the grand staircase was Marco Vance—a sharp-faced, fifty-five-year-old crime lord dressed in a tailored grey tuxedo, his eyes scanning the crowd like a hungry hawk.
The heavy mahogany double doors of the ballroom opened wide.
The ambient chatter in the room died instantly.
Dante Rosselli walked into the hall. He looked magnificent in his dark burgundy suit, his crisp white dress shirt open at the collar, his black dragon tattoo rising along his neck. Walking beside him, her dark-brown hair styled into an elegant updo, was Alina. She wore a stunning midnight-blue silk evening gown provided by the estate stylist, her antique silver necklace resting against her collarbone.
And sitting comfortably in a high-tech leather baby carrier strapped across Dante’s broad chest was nine-month-old Leo, dressed in his tiny white shirt and dark vest, looking around the room with calm, gray-eyed curiosity.
Gasps echoed across the ballroom as the commission members stared at the feared Mafia Boss attending a high-stakes syndicate summit carrying his infant son.
Marco Vance walked forward, a cold, arrogant smirk on his thin lips. "Dante. I see you brought the nursery to a board meeting."
Dante stopped three feet from Vance, his towering frame radiating a terrifying authority that made the surrounding bodyguards step back.
"My son goes where I go, Vance," Dante said flatly, his gravelly voice cutting through the room like a blade. "Now state your business before the Commission."
Vance stepped up to the microphone at the center table, pointing an aggressive finger toward Alina. "Gentlemen of the Commission! Dante Rosselli has been operating the South Chicago shipping terminals using unregistered trust funds! And that woman standing beside him is holding the illegal key to the Zurich accounts!"
Alina stood tall beside Dante, her hand resting gently over baby Leo's small shoulder, her eyes fearless as she faced the room of powerful men.
Dante reached into his suit jacket, pulling out his twin silver locket, and held it high under the chandelier light.
"The Zurich accounts belong to the Rosselli bloodline, Vance," Dante announced, his deep voice shaking the high ceilings. "And the woman standing beside me is Alina Valdez—the daughter of Clara Valdez, the primary trustee."
Vance’s smirk vanished into pure rage. He reached for his inner jacket pocket—
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Before Vance could touch his weapon, nine-month-old Leo let out a loud, happy babble, reaching his tiny hand out and grabbing the microphone wire, yanking it flat onto the glass table with a sharp crash.
The entire ballroom erupted into chaotic movement.
