Chapter 7 - the council of shadows
At high noon, the central council room of the Moretti mansion was bathed in cold, sharp sunlight streaming through reinforced glass windows.
Around the massive oval mahogany table sat seven regional directors, each dressed in expensive dark suits, flanked by their own bodyguards. The air inside the room was thick with tension, as news of the failed poisoning attempt at Ethan's party had already spread through the syndicate networks.
At the head of the table sat Dominic Moretti, looking immaculate in a tailored dark navy suit, his white open-collar shirt exposing his collarbone tattoos.
To his right sat his eight-year-old son, Ethan, and to his left sat Clare, wearing a beautiful cream-colored dress provided by the estate's private tailors, holding little Lily in her lap.
At the far end of the table sat Marcus Moretti—a polished, gray-haired man in his late fifties wearing an expensive charcoal suit and a heavy gold watch.
"Dominic," Marcus spoke up smoothly, offering a warm, reassuring smile. "We were all horrified to hear about the incident last night. Thank God young Ethan is safe. Have we identified the rogue security guard who attempted this atrocity?"
Dominic didn't answer immediately. He slowly leaned forward, resting his broad forearms over the polished table, his dark eyes locked onto Marcus.
"The guard was Victor," Dominic spoke, his voice echoing through the silent room. "And the doctor was Harris. Both are currently in our sub-level vault."
Marcus's smile faltered slightly, but he maintained his composure. "Good. Then the threat has been eliminated."
"Not quite, Marcus," Dominic said softly. He gestured to Vincent, who set a small silver micro-drive onto the table, plugging it into a digital display monitor on the wall.
The screen lit up, displaying encrypted bank transfer records, satellite call logs, and property deeds located in Chicago—all bearing Marcus Moretti’s private signature and seal.
The other regional directors gasped in collective shock, instantly shifting their chairs away from Marcus.
Marcus’s face drained of color. He stood up abruptly from his chair. "This is a fabrication! Someone is trying to frame me, Dominic! I am your blood! I served your father for thirty years!"
Dominic looked down at three-year-old Lily. "Lily... tell the council what you saw in the hallway three weeks ago during the family dinner."
May you like
Lily looked at Marcus with big, bright brown eyes. "The gray-haired man gave the doctor a black envelope by the garden door. He told him not to forget the special party."
Marcus stared at the three-year-old girl in absolute horror, realizing his downfall had been written not by federal agents or rival syndicates, but by an observant toddler in a yellow dress.
