Chapter 7 - The Gathering of the Capos
At noon the following day, the grand mahogany table in the estate’s underground council chamber was filled.
Seated around the table were twelve men—the capos of the Moretti family, representing our operations from Boston to New York. They were hard-faced men in dark suits, their hands calloused, their eyes cynical and watchful.
At the head of the table sat empty space—my chair.
Standing to my right was Luca Santoro.
Standing to my left was Dominic Moretti, my cousin.
The room was thick with quiet tension. News of Ryan’s betrayal, Victor Chenier’s arrest, and the raid on the Hotel Grand Paragon had already circulated through the underworld networks like wildfire.
The heavy iron door swung open, and I walked into the room.
Every single capo stood up in unison, bowing their heads in respect.
“Sit,” I said, taking my seat at the head of the table.
The twelve men sat down quietly, their eyes locked onto mine.
“Yesterday,” I began, my voice calm, flat, and commanding, “an attempt was made to dismantle the Moretti family from the inside out.”
Old Enzo Bellini cleared his throat, leaning forward. “We heard about Ryan, Don Alessandro. Is it true? Was your own stepbrother working with the Canadians?”
“Ryan Vance is no longer a member of this family,” I stated clearly. “He has been stripped of his titles, his assets, and his name. He will spend the remainder of his days in an undisclosed location under Luca’s personal supervision.”
A low murmur of approval rippled around the table. In our world, treason from within the bloodline was the ultimate crime.
“And Victor Chenier?” another capo asked.
“Chenier is currently in a federal holding cell in Boston,” I replied. “His assets have been frozen by the United States government. His shipping routes in Quebec are now vacant.”
I leaned forward, resting my elbows on the mahogany table, looking at each capo individually.
“The Chenier territory is now open,” I declared. “Dominic, you will take charge of the Boston ports. Enzo, you will oversee the shipping lines in Rhode Island. We will absorb their legal logistics networks within thirty days.”
Dominic’s eyes lit up with fierce determination. “Understood, Boss.”
“There is one more matter,” I continued, standing up from my chair. “Yesterday, a four-year-old child named Emma Rossi stopped my wedding. Some of you in this room thought it was a humiliation. Some of you thought it showed weakness.”
I slammed my palm down onto the table with a sharp, thunderous crack that made three capos jump in their seats.
“That child saved this family from a bloody war,” I growled, my eyes flashing with dangerous intensity. “She proved that loyalty does not come from a suit, a contract, or a mob oath. It comes from truth.”
I pointed a finger around the room.
“From this day forward, Sophia Rossi and Emma Rossi are under the supreme protection of the Moretti family council. If anyone in this city—rival or family—so much as looks at them the wrong way, I will personally see to it that their entire bloodline is erased from existence. Am I understood?”
“Understood, Don Alessandro!” the twelve capos shouted back in unison, their voices echoing off the stone walls of the chamber.
May you like
I took a deep breath, smoothing down my tie.
“Meeting adjourned. Luca, stay behind.”
