Chapter 9 - THE ULTIMATUM AT THE HARBOR
By sunrise, the war was already over before the city of Memphis had even rubbed the sleep from its eyes.
Knox Sheridan didn't wait for Sal Marcone to make a second move. At five o'clock in the morning, operating with surgical precision, Knox's syndicates and financial allies legally and physically seized every single shipping asset, dock warehouse, and financial account belonging to Marcone across the tri-state area.
By eight o'clock, Sal Marcone found himself sitting alone in his glass office, staring at bank notices freezing every cent of his capital while federal and private auditors moved in to inventory his properties.
The phone on Marcone's desk rang once. He picked it up with a shaking hand.
"Marcone," Knox's voice came through the receiver, calm, measured, and absolute.
"Sheridan... what is this? You can't just—"
"I didn't just take your business, Sal," Knox interrupted smoothly. "I took your city. You made the grave mistake of bringing violence to a place where a little girl serves cornbread and a mother works with honest hands. By noon, you will be on a private flight out of Tennessee, and if you ever set foot in Memphis again, you won't even make it off the tarmac."
May you like
The line went dead with a sharp click.
Marcone dropped the handset, realizing with absolute terror that he had just fought an empire—and lost everything over a cast-iron skillet and a burnt edge of cornbread.
