Chapter 7 - A Scent of Spilled Vintage and Ocean BrineDominic stood up from the head of the table.
He towered over the groveling billionaire, six feet three inches of unyielding, sovereign authority.
“Your daughter kicked Laura Hayes across the shin tonight, Salvatore,” Dominic whispered, his voice quiet enough that the tide shifting against the pilings outside sounded like a metronome.
Salvatore wept uncontrollably, his forehead pressed into the cold flagstones.
“Dominic... have mercy... I will sign over every share! I will surrender every casino in Atlantic City!”
“My mercy, Salvatore,” Dominic said softly, “is that you will spend the next thirty-five years at the Federal Correctional Institution in Danbury, watching the sunrise through a four-inch slit in a concrete wall, knowing that the server your daughter called a tray-carrier owns every gaming license your family ever built.”
He looked at Marco.
“Deliver Salvatore Moretti to Assistant United States Attorney Marcus Vance at the federal courthouse on Pacific Avenue alongside these ledgers. Hand over the Swiss banking records.”
Salvatore 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.
Dominic 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 Moretti Syndicate does not operate on poisoned treaties, unverified cargo, or the exploitation of our service workers. We clear the terminals. We protect the gaming floors. We defend the people who sweat on our docks.”
He looked down at Laura, then at his mother.
“Laura Hayes is appointed Executive Trustee of the newly chartered Donna Sofia and Laura Hayes Foundation for Hospitality Workers. The foundation will receive fifty percent of the commercial revenues from every casino formerly operated by the Salvatore conglomerate—permanently endowed, unencumbered by syndicate tax.”
He looked at the sixty capos, his eyes hardening into flint.
“Laura Hayes 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
Marcus 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 Laura! To Donna Sofia! To Don Dominic! Viva la famiglia!”
Related Stories
