Chapter 9 - The banishment
The aftermath of the confession was swift and merciless. Dominic and Clara escorted Celeste back to the grand ballroom. The mercenaries were bound and kneeling on the floor. The syndicate elders stood in a semi-circle, their faces hard and unforgiving.
When Celeste was brought before them, no one spoke a word of comfort. In their world, betrayal and the murder of family blood (Dominic's brother) were unforgivable sins.
Don Alighieri stepped forward, looking at the trembling woman in the torn red gown.
“Celeste Carvelli,” the old man said, his voice echoing in the vast, bright room. “You are stripped of your name. You are stripped of your assets, your bank accounts, and your protections. You will leave this estate tonight with nothing but the clothes on your back. If you are ever seen in this city again, the syndicate will not be merciful.”
Celeste looked at Dominic, begging with her eyes, but he offered her nothing but cold silence. Two massive syndicate guards grabbed her by the arms and dragged her out of the bright ballroom, her screams echoing down the marble halls until the heavy front doors slammed shut forever.
The silence returned to the room. The elders turned their attention to Dominic.
“You have a choice to make, Dominic,” Don Alighieri said quietly. “Your father stole the foundation of our syndicate. By our laws, the wealth belongs to the Bennett bloodline. But you are the boss. You command the men. If you choose to keep it, there will be war.”
Dominic looked at the older men, men who had feared and respected him for years. Then, he turned to Clara. She stood amidst the ruined elegance of the ballroom, looking incredibly beautiful, strong, and entirely out of place in the violent world she had just inherited.
Dominic walked toward her. The rugged, immensely powerful mafia boss stopped a foot away from the woman who had scrubbed his floors just days prior.
Slowly, deliberately, Dominic unfastened the heavy gold cufflinks from his wrists. He pulled off his luxury wristwatch and placed it on a nearby table. He was stripping away the symbols of his stolen kingship.
Then, to the absolute shock of the entire ballroom, Dominic Carvelli dropped to one knee in front of Clara Bennett.
“My father stole your crown,” Dominic said, his voice deep, resonant, and echoing with absolute loyalty. “I cannot undo the sins of the past. But I can give you the future. I pledge my men, my resources, and my life to the true matriarch of this empire. The house is yours, Clara. The syndicate is yours.”
Clara stared down at the massive, powerful man kneeling at her feet. Her heart pounded, a mixture of terror and an exhilarating, overwhelming surge of power rushing through her veins. She looked up at the syndicate elders. They hesitated for a moment, looking at the fair, rosy-cheeked woman wearing the ancestral sapphire.
Slowly, Don Alighieri bowed his head. One by one, the most dangerous men in the country followed suit, bowing to a former maid.
May you like
Clara reached out, her elegant fingers gently touching Dominic’s shoulder. “Stand up, Dominic,” she commanded softly.
He rose, his dark eyes locking onto hers. The dynamic between them had shifted permanently. He was no longer her boss; he was her protector, her enforcer, and perhaps, something much more dangerous.
