Chapter 10 - Tonio’s Iron Pruning Shear
At noon, the grand assembly hall of the Palais de Justice in Bastia convened for an extraordinary tribunal of the Mediterranean Syndicate.
The circular, wood-paneled amphitheater was filled with seventy syndicate bosses, regional governors, and international shipping magnates from across Southern Europe.
Seated at the center of the high tribunal table was Don Giancarlo Moretti—the eighty-two-year-old dean of the Mediterranean Council, leaning upon his carved ivory cane.
Dominic Moreau walked down the central marble aisle, his posture radiating the absolute, terrifying majesty of a sovereign emperor.
Walking beside him, her arm linked with his, was me.
I wore an elegant, tailored emerald-green silk dress that Dominic had personally commissioned from a boutique in Bastia, my hair pinned neatly, the orange blossom pendant gleaming at my throat.
And walking proudly behind us, dressed in a brand-new linen three-piece suit with polished leather boots, was seventy-nine-year-old Tonio Rossi, carrying the antique silver pruning shear on a velvet cushion.
Don Giancarlo Moretti rose to his feet, adjusting his spectacles as he looked down at the documents spread across the tribunal desk.
“Before this council,” Giancarlo’s deep, resonant voice echoed through the vaulted hall, “we formally record the final judgment against the House of De Winter.”
He pointed to the leather ledgers recovered from Vault *404*.
“Under the evidence compiled by Donna Isabella Moreau and preserved for eighteen years by Maestro Tonio Rossi, Henri De Winter and Camille De Winter stand convicted of high treason, the murder of Donna Isabella, and the systematic poisoning of our people through counterfeit pharmaceuticals.”
Giancarlo banged his heavy wooden gavel onto the stone block with a thunderous crack.
“The House of De Winter is hereby declared *Extinctus*! All shipping routes, maritime terminals, and banking charters totaling forty billion euros are transferred permanently and unconditionally to Dominic Moreau and Sylvie Laurent!”
The entire assembly of seventy syndicate lords stood as one, erupting into a deafening, standing ovation that shook the stained-glass windows of the hall.
Giancarlo turned his gaze toward Tonio Rossi, bowing his silver head in profound, unprecedented reverence.
“And to Maestro Tonio Rossi, the High Council decrees the title of *Custode della Terra*—Guardian of the Soil. The Southern Groves are deeded to his perpetual stewardship, exempt from all taxes, all tariffs, and all syndicate interference for seven generations!”
Tonio dabbed his eyes with a clean handkerchief, smiling through his tears as the most powerful men in Europe applauded his sixty years of silent, unbreakable devotion.
Dominic turned to me, his dark eyes glowing with a quiet, holy pride.
May you like
He took my hand, raising it before the assembly, sealing our victory before the eyes of the world.
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