Chapter 7 - The Father's Forged Harbor LeaseA collective intake of breath rippled through the sixty syndicate capos in the pews.
Vanessa’s face lost every shred of color, turning the sickly shade of spoiled cream beneath her veil.
“Dante... darling, what are you talking about?” she stammered, her voice rising into a sharp, brittle register. “Are you making a joke before our vows?”
“I do not joke about my mother’s jewelry, Vanessa,” Dante replied softly.
He held the pendant up toward the sunlight streaming through the stained-glass window.
Then, in front of the entire assembly, Dante closed his fingers around the twenty-carat teardrop stone and squeezed.
CRACK.
The synthetic crystal shattered into dozens of jagged fragments under the crushing pressure of his grip, green glass shards spilling through his fingers onto the marble altar floor.
Inside the hollow rhodium setting was a tiny strip of lead and a stamped serial number: ZURICH REPLICA #04.
The chapel went completely, suffocatingly still.
Not a single person breathed.
Salvatore Bellini sprang forward, his heavy hands slamming against the communion rail.
“Dante! What is this theatrical nonsense? You destroyed your own family heirloom!”
“My family heirloom is locked inside my private safe, Salvatore,” Dante said, his voice flat as an iron slab.
He reached into his breast pocket and tossed a thick sheaf of printed financial records onto the altar rail in front of the older mobster.
“Along with the bank records showing your two-hundred-thousand-dollar deposit to Andrew Keller, and the signed bills of lading transferring my mother's stones to the Montreal cartel to clear your sixty-million-dollar debt on the New Jersey docks.”
Salvatore’s eyes dilated in pure, unadulterated horror.
He looked down at the banking manifests, his hands trembling violently.
“This... this is an illegal breach of privacy! You had no right to audit my accounts!”
“I have the right to protect my empire from traitors who bring liquidators into my home,” Dante said, stepping down from the altar platform until he was standing two feet from the father and daughter.
He looked down at Vanessa, who was trembling so hard her lace veil was vibrating against her cheeks.
“You told Nora Williams that she caught her hand in a silverware drawer yesterday afternoon,” Dante whispered, each word sharp enough to slice skin.
Vanessa began to sob, backing away from the altar, clutching her lace train.
“Dante, please! It was an accident! She was standing in the doorway—I didn't mean to slam the door on her!”
“You told Keller that an indebted cleaner wouldn't dare open her mouth if she valued her sister's life,” Dante continued, his gray eyes turning to black voids of death. “You planned to have your father’s mercenaries stage an ambush on this terrace at three o'clock, shoot into the crowd of guests, and snatch this fake pendant so nobody would suspect your theft.”
May you like
He looked at Daniel.
“Bring in the crew from The Siren.”
Related Stories
