Chapter 7 - A Scent of Spilled Vintage and Sea SaltChristian stood up from the head of the table.
He towered over the groveling billionaire, six feet four inches of unyielding, sovereign authority.
“Your daughter asked Teresa Cruz to lick spilled wine off her shoes tonight, Henri,” Christian whispered, his voice quiet enough that the tide shifting against the sea caves below sounded like a metronome.
Laurent wept uncontrollably, his forehead pressed into the cold flagstones.
“Christian... have mercy... I will sign over every share! I will surrender every shipyard in Toulon!”
“My mercy, Henri,” Christian said softly, “is that you will spend the next thirty-five years at the Federal Correctional Facility in Danbury, watching the sunrise through a four-inch slit in a concrete wall, knowing that the dishwasher your daughter called a kitchen rat owns every shipyard your family ever built.”
He looked at Marcus.
“Deliver Henri Laurent to Assistant United States Attorney Marcus Vance at the federal consulate in Nice alongside these ledgers. Hand over the Swiss banking records.”
Laurent shrieked as two armed commandos dragged him backward down the stone aisle, his pathetic, echoing cries fading into the darkness until the heavy iron blast doors slammed shut forever.
Silence returned to the council chamber.
Pure, clean, and vast.
Christian turned back to the sixty syndicate commanders standing along the table.
“From this hour forward,” he announced, his deep baritone rolling across the room with concussive weight, “the Vance Syndicate does not operate on poisoned treaties, unverified cargo, or the exploitation of our maritime workers. We clear the channels. We move the freight. We defend the people who sweat in our bilges.”
He looked down at Teresa, then at his grandmother.
“Teresa Cruz is appointed Executive Trustee of the newly chartered Donna Isabella and Teresa Cruz Foundation for Maritime Workers. The foundation will receive fifty percent of the commercial revenues from every container terminal formerly operated by the Laurent conglomerate—permanently endowed, unencumbered by syndicate tax.”
He looked at the sixty capos, his eyes hardening into flint.
“Teresa Cruz holds the golden voting share on the Board of Directors. Her word is my law in this territory. Anyone who fails to treat her with the honor due to the sovereign seat will answer directly to my barrel.”
May you like
Vittorio Falcone raised his heavy crystal glass of vintage Barolo into the air, his gravelly voice leading the assembly in a thunderous, room-shaking roar:
“To Donna Teresa! To Donna Isabella! To Don Christian! Viva la famiglia!”
Related Stories
