Chapter 8 - The Council's Verdict
The grand hall fell into an absolute, breathless silence.
Don Carmine slowly set the leather ledger down on the mahogany table, adjusting his spectacles as he looked up at Julian Moretti with eyes filled with pure disgust.
"Julian," Don Carmine rasped, his voice ancient and heavy with authority. "These offshore accounts match the exact bank transfers used to fund Marcus Vance's operations in Detroit. You sold out your own blood for thirty percent of the harbor terminals."
"Carmine... wait! Listen to me!" Julian panicked, raising his hands as two heavy Council guards stepped up behind his chair. "Rocco is lying! He planned this whole thing to eliminate his rivals!"
"Silence!" Don Carmine barked, slamming his silver-topped cane against the floorboards. "The evidence is indisputable. By the laws of the Chicago Syndicate, Julian Moretti is stripped of his title, his rank, and his inheritance."
Julian looked around the room wildly, realizing that every single director at the table was looking at him with cold hostility.
Don Carmine turned his gaze to Rocco. "Rocco Moretti. As Don of this city, the judgment belongs to you."
Rocco walked up to Julian, standing over his cousin like an immovable wall of iron. He reached out and removed the silver signet ring from Julian’s finger, tossing it onto the mahogany table.
"Take him down to the lower holding facility," Rocco ordered the guards softly. "He will face a full trial under family law."
The guards grabbed Julian by his arms, dragging him kicking and screaming out of the grand hall. His desperate cries echoed off the gothic stone walls until the heavy doors slammed shut, restoring absolute peace to the room.
Don Carmine stood up, bowing his head respectfully toward Rocco. "Don Moretti. Your house is secure once again."
Rocco offered a quiet, firm nod. He turned back toward Anna, who was standing near the entrance holding Lily’s hand.
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For the first time in twenty-four hours, the tension in Rocco’s posture melted away, replaced by a deep, quiet sense of relief. He walked over to Anna, taking her hand in his broad, calloused palm.
"Let's go home, Anna," Rocco said gently.
