Chapter 4 - The Midnight Council
The grand dining room of the Duca estate was dominated by a twenty-foot mahogany table beneath a massive crystal chandelier.
At 11:55 PM, the room was filled with the heavy, tense atmosphere of men who knew a storm was coming, but had no idea where the lightning would strike.
Four caporegimes sat around the table.
To my right sat Joseph and Paulie—two loyal, old-school captains who had served my father for thirty years. To my left sat Jimmy, a sharp, younger captain who controlled our legal unions.
And at the far end of the table sat Dominic.
Dominic was sixty-five, with slicked-back white hair, sharp blue eyes, and an expensive navy blue wool jacket. He sat back in his leather chair, a cigar resting between his fingers, looking around the room with the quiet, smug confidence of a man who believed he owned every brick in the building.
I sat at the head of the table.
On the surface, nothing had changed. My whiteboard sat beside my right hand. A black dry-erase marker rested on top of it. I wore my black suit, my face an unreadable, expressionless mask of stone.
Behind me stood Luca, his arms crossed over his chest, his eyes fixed entirely on Dominic’s neck.
In the corner of the room, near the grand fireplace, Sophia stood quietly holding four-year-old Emma in her arms. I had insisted they be present.
Dominic looked at Sophia and Emma, his lip curling in mild annoyance. He took his cigar from his mouth, looked at Luca, and gestured with his hand toward the door.
"Why are the maid and her brat in the council room, Luca?" Dominic asked, his voice booming through the room. "This is family business. Get them out."
He spoke casually, with absolute freedom, knowing that to my ears, his words were nothing more than silent air.
I did not touch the whiteboard.
I did not reach for the marker.
I picked up my glass of water, took a slow sip, and set it down on the mahogany surface.
CLINK.
The sound echoed through the silent room.
I looked directly into Dominic’s eyes.
"She stays," I said.
The entire dining room went completely, terrifyingly silent.
Joseph gasped, dropping his pen onto the table. Paulie stood up so fast his heavy leather chair scraped violently against the hardwood floor. Jimmy’s mouth opened in absolute shock.
Dominic froze. His cigar stopped inches from his mouth. His face drained of color so fast it looked as if his blood had been instantly siphoned away.
"What... what did you just say?" Dominic stammered, his voice trembling.
I leaned forward, placing my hands flat on the mahogany table. My voice came out steady, cold, and resonant—a voice that had returned from three years in the dark.
"I said she stays, Dominic," I repeated, my eyes locked on his pale, sweating face. "Emma stays right where she is. Because that four-year-old child has more loyalty in her pinky finger than you have in your entire treacherous body."
Dominic’s hands began to shake. He reached instinctively toward his inner coat pocket where his piece was stashed.
CLICK.
Before his fingers could touch his lapel, Luca pulled his heavy silver .45 pistol and pressed the cold steel barrel directly against the back of Dominic’s head.
"Don't do it, Old Man," Luca whispered in his ear. "I'll splatter your brains across this mahogany table before your hand touches leather."
"Julius!" Dominic cried out, looking at me with wide, terrified eyes. "What is this?! What madness is this?! I’ve served your family for forty years!"
"You served my father," I said, standing up slowly, towering over the table. "And then you sold my brother Matteo to Marco Moretti for twenty percent of the Brooklyn shipping terminals."
Joseph and Paulie stood up, their hands flying to their holsters as they stared at Dominic in utter horror.
"Is this true, Dominic?!" Joseph roared. "Did you sell out Matteo?!"
"He’s lying! He’s crazy!" Dominic shrieked, his smug composure completely shattered into pathetic panic. "He’s been deaf for three years! His mind is broken! You can't listen to him!"
I reached into my pocket, pulled out the small leather-bound ledger Luca had taken from Dr. Hale’s safe, and tossed it into the center of the table.
"Page twenty-four, Joseph," I said calmly. "Monthly wire transfers from Marco Moretti’s Swiss account to Dr. Victor Hale to keep me chemically poisoned with Ototoxin drops every Friday morning. And page thirty, the distribution list for the Brooklyn dock profits signed by Dominic himself."
Joseph snatched the ledger, his eyes scanning the pages. His face turned thunderous with rage. He looked up at Dominic, pulling his own gun from his belt.
"You bastard," Joseph spat. "You poisonous, traitorous bastard."
I reached back into my pocket and pulled out the brass button stamped with the Falcon and Anchor.
I walked down the length of the long table, stopping right beside Dominic. I dropped the heavy brass button into his lapel pocket.
"You dropped this in Victor’s office when you paid him off last month, Dominic," I whispered in his ear. "It’s time you took it back."
Dominic collapsed back into his chair, weeping hysterically, his hands covering his face as he realized that three years of careful, bloody deceit had just collapsed around his ears in less than five minutes.
May you like
I turned away from him and looked at Joseph, Paulie, and Jimmy.
"Lock him in the wine cellar under the guardhouse," I commanded. "And call Dr. Victor Hale. Tell him I’m having severe ear pain tonight and I need an emergency house call."
