Chapter 20
Three weeks later, the crisp autumn gave way to the first biting flurries of winter in downtown Chicago. The city was moving at its usual relentless pace, neon lights reflecting off the wet asphalt, crowds of people hurrying through the cold wind along Michigan Avenue.
Dominic Moretti sat in his commanding corner office on the sixtieth floor of the Moretti Tower, the central headquarters of his legitimate corporate empire. The sprawling office was a masterpiece of dark mahogany, imported leather, and floor-to-ceiling glass offering an unobstructed view of the glittering Chicago skyline.
On the massive mahogany desk sat two items of immense significance. On the right was an exquisite, custom-made silver picture frame holding Lily’s colored pencil drawing of the manor, carefully preserved against the glass. On the left was an official corporate audit confirming that Moretti Logistics had been completely purged of all illicit operations, its revenue streams now entirely legitimate, profitable, and untraceable to criminal enterprises.
Salvatore Rossi had been sentenced three days prior to life imprisonment without the possibility of parole at ADX Florence, his entire fortune liquidated by federal authorities. The street collectors, corrupt port officials, and cartel liaisons had been methodically dismantled. Dominic had used both the law and his absolute underworld authority to scrub his kingdom clean.
The heavy double doors of the office clicked open. Vance stepped inside, dressed in his tailored charcoal suit, holding a sleek black leather folio.
"Boss," Vance said, his tone carrying an unusual, sharp edge of professional alertness.
Dominic leaned back in his high-backed leather chair, his piercing gray-blue eyes shifting from the window to his lead lieutenant. "Report, Vance."
"The Miller family is fully settled in Boston," Vance reported, a faint smile touching his lips. "Daniel has accepted an executive consulting position at an independent accounting firm. Lily was enrolled in St. Jude’s Academy on Monday, and Dr. Campbell’s colleagues confirm Noah has completely cleared his pediatric recovery milestones. They are safe, happy, and entirely off the grid."
"Good," Dominic murmured, a quiet satisfaction warming his chest. "Ensure the private security detail remains stationed five blocks away from their residence indefinitely. They are never to know they are being watched, but nothing touches that house."
"Understood, Boss," Vance replied. He paused, his posture tightening as he set the black leather folio onto the mahogany desk. "However... we have a situation developing on the national board."
Dominic’s eyes narrowed into dangerous slits. The relaxed demeanor vanished instantly, replaced by the terrifying, calculating mafia kingpin who had ruled the Midwest for over a decade. "Speak."
"The purge of Salvatore Rossi and the destruction of the Detroit arms corridor did not go unnoticed," Vance explained, opening the folio to reveal encrypted wire transcripts and surveillance photographs. "The Commission in New York held an emergency summit yesterday evening. The Five Families are claiming that by dismantling the Pier 42 pipeline and cooperating indirectly with federal disclosures, you disrupted a multi-billion-dollar national supply chain."
Dominic looked at the photographs. Standing outside an upscale private club in Manhattan were the capos of the Luciano and Genovese families, surrounded by heavily armed security.
"They believe you have gone soft, Dominic," Vance warned quietly. "They believe that your refusal to traffic narcotics and weapons, combined with your sudden intervention for an accountant's children, is a sign of vulnerability. The New York Commission has issued a formal summons. They are demanding you travel to Manhattan to answer for the lost revenue, or face a coordinated national embargo on your shipping routes."
Dominic slowly closed the leather folio. He reached up, leisurely adjusting the luxury silver watch on his tattooed wrist. A slow, cold, and utterly terrifying smirk spread across his strikingly handsome face. The air in the executive office seemed to drop twenty degrees.
Dominic stood up to his full, towering height. His broad shoulders blocked the glittering lights of the Chicago skyline behind him. The dark black tattoos creeping up his neck pulsed with an electric, lethal energy.
"They think I saved those children because I became soft?" Dominic whispered, his deep voice vibrating with an immovable, catastrophic power that had made rival bosses weep for mercy. "They misunderstand the fundamental nature of power. I did not step back from the darkness, Vance. I merely chose what was worth protecting."
Dominic walked over to the floor-to-ceiling window, looking out toward the East, where the gathering storm clouds rolled across the Midwestern plains toward New York.
"Notify the pilots to prep the private jet," Dominic commanded, his voice a low, lethal promise that signaled the dawn of a nationwide war. "And contact our tactical commanders in Detroit, Philadelphia, and Miami. Tell them the Moretti family is moving to a Level Five readiness."
Vance’s eyes widened with dark excitement. "Are we answering the summons, Boss?"
May you like
Dominic turned his head, his piercing gray-blue eyes blazing with the unyielding fury of an apex predator ready to claim a continent.
"I am not answering their summons, Vance," Dominic said coldly. "I am going to New York to teach them who rules this country."
