Chapter 10 - the chairman's call
Before Dominic could speak, the red secure landline on his mahogany desk began to ring.
The sound pierced through the heavy silence of the room. That line was connected directly to one person: Salvatore Moretti, the seventy-year-old Chairman of the Five Families Council.
Dominic straightened his posture, took a slow breath, and walked behind the desk. He picked up the receiver.
"Dominic," the raspy voice of Moretti came through the speaker.
"Chairman," Dominic answered calmly.
"I’m hearing troubling reports from your estate tonight," Moretti said, his tone measured, devoid of emotion. "You threw out your gala guests. You locked your gates. And rumors are circulating that you struck your brother’s widow in public."
Dominic kept his eyes fixed on Vivienne. "My sister-in-law committed high treason against the Ferraro family eight years ago. She orchestrated the warehouse bombing on Lake Shore Drive."
A long silence hung on the line.
"Those are serious accusations, Dominic," Moretti said. "Do you have proof?"
"I have my driver, Leo, alive in my office," Dominic stated coldly. "I have the routing numbers linking the stolen forty million to her offshore accounts. And I have the biological son she tried to hide from me for eight years."
On the other end of the line, Moretti took a slow breath. "A son?"
"My legitimate heir," Dominic said firmly. "Noah Ferraro."
Vivienne let out a strangled laugh from her chair. "Tell him about the journal, Dominic! Ask him what’s in the journal!"
Dominic ignored her. "Chairman, Vivienne claims she delivered my father's private records to you."
Moretti was silent for three full seconds. When he spoke again, his voice had changed, carrying a dangerous, chilling gravity.
"A package arrived at my residence two hours ago, Dominic," Moretti said. "Hand-delivered by an anonymous courier. It contained your father’s leather notebook."
Dominic's grip tightened on the telephone receiver until the plastic creaked. "What does it say, Salvatore?"
"It contains the original founding charter of the Five Families," Moretti said slowly. "And according to your father’s own handwriting... the Ferraro bloodline is not what you think it is."
Dominic’s hazel eyes narrowed. "Speak plainly."
"Your father had an elder son, Dominic," Moretti revealed, his voice echoing in the quiet study. "A son born out of wedlock ten years before you were born. A son he placed up for adoption to protect him from the old war."
Dominic felt a sudden chill sweep through his blood. "Who?"
"The journal doesn't name him," Moretti said. "It only provides a registration code from Saint Jude's Orphanage in Boston. But the charter is clear: the firstborn male holds the ultimate veto over the family leadership. If that man is alive, Dominic... you do not own the Ferraro empire. He does."
May you like
Moretti paused, then added: "The Council convenes tomorrow at noon at the downtown cathedral. Bring the boy. Bring Vivienne. And bring whatever defense you have. Because if you cannot prove your right to lead... the Council will strip your title before sundown."
The line went dead with a sharp click.
