Chapter 6 - the tribunal at dawn
By 5:00 AM, the rain had cleared, leaving a thick, low-hanging mist over the manicured lawns of the Bellucci estate.
Inside the grand ballroom, twenty senior captains and elder bosses from across the state sat along the perimeter walls in silent, tense attendance. Standing near the marble fireplace were Santino Bellucci and Celeste, looking confident and triumphant.
"Victor is dead!" Santino announced loudly to the gathered bosses, holding up a forged set of family deeds. "An accidental explosion in the wine cellar took his life hours ago! As the senior surviving male heir, I am declaring total leadership of the Bellucci syndicate!"
Celeste smiled smoothly beside him, wearing a fresh burgundy silk gown, her diamond necklace sparkling in the morning light. "And as Victor's legal fiancée, I fully endorse Santino's ascension."
"You endorse a murderer," a deep, thunderous voice boomed from the grand arched doorway.
The entire ballroom turned in breathless shock.
Victor Bellucci stepped into the room. His black tuxedo was dusted with stone powder, his hair slightly disheveled, but his presence was so immense and terrifying that three of Santino's guards instinctively backed away.
Walking right beside him was Clara, dressed in an elegant navy wool dress, holding the original Nevada marriage certificate and Don Salvatore's ledger in her hands.
Santino’s face turned an ashen white. "Victor?! That's impossible!"
"You always were impatient, cousin," Victor said coldly, stepping into the center of the ballroom. "You used my fiancée to steal family records, set explosives in my home, and tried to murder my father's blood."
Celeste backed toward the fireplace, her hands shaking violently. "Victor... listen to me... Santino forced me! He threatened my life!"
"Shut up, you fool!" Santino spat at her, drawing a nickel-plated pistol from his jacket.
Before Santino could raise the barrel, Victor moved with terrifying speed. He closed the fifteen-foot gap in three massive strides, grabbing Santino's wrist with crushing force, twisting the weapon out of his grip, and delivering a single, devastating right hook to Santino's jaw!
Santino crashed onto the polished floorboards, spitting blood, his pistol clattering across the marble.
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Victor stood over his cousin, his heavy boot pinned firmly against Santino's chest, looking down at him with dark, unyielding authority.
"Don Carmine," Victor called out to the senior elder sitting in the front row. "Read the documents."
