Chapter 17 - The Council of Five Families
The Grand Ballroom of the Blackstone Hotel in downtown Chicago was neutral ground.
For nearly a century, the Five Families had gathered beneath its crystal chandeliers to negotiate territory, carve up unions, and declare peace. Weapons were strictly forbidden inside the chamber; every boss was allowed only two unarmed consiglieres.
At 8:00 PM, eighty-year-old Carmine Valenti sat at the long marble table, looking smug. Flanking him were Don Lucchese, Don Falcone, and Don Moretti's former allies.
"Alejandro Moretti has lost his mind," Valenti proclaimed to the council, waving a wrinkled, liver-spotted hand. "He murdered his own uncle Silvio in cold blood! He slaughtered my private security team! He is bringing instability to Chicago. We must vote to strip the Moretti family of their seat!"
Don Lucchese, a stern, gray-haired man who controlled the city's transport hubs, frowned. "Silvio was family. Alejandro wouldn't kill him without cause. Where is Alejandro? Why hasn't he answered the summons?"
The heavy oak doors of the ballroom slammed open.
I walked in.
I wore an immaculate midnight-blue suit, my hair combed back, my eyes cold as the arctic ice. Behind me walked Marco and Dr. Julian Alvarez, carrying a heavy steel briefcase.
"I am here, Carmine," I spoke, my voice carrying effortlessly across the vaulted ceiling.
Valenti sneered. "You dare show your face before the Commission? You are a traitor to the code, Alejandro! You executed your own blood!"
"I executed a dog who poisoned my wife," I said, stepping up to the center of the table.
Murmurs rippled across the room. Don Falcone leaned forward, his brow furrowing. "Sofia died of illness, Alejandro. We all attended the funeral."
"She was poisoned with Thallium supplied by Carmine Valenti and administered by Silvio," I said, gesturing to Julian.
Julian placed the steel briefcase on the table, popped the locks, and flipped the lid open. Inside were stacks of certified laboratory tests, customs manifests with Valenti’s private wax seal, and sworn audio testimony from the corrupt doctor in Mexico who had been paid to falsify Sofia’s death certificate.
"Valenti wanted the lake ports," I said, my voice dropping to a dangerous, low vibration that made the room freeze. "He knew Sofia controlled the maritime deeds through her family trust. He tried to kill her before she could produce an heir. But God had other plans."
"Lies!" Valenti screamed, rising from his chair, his face turning purple. "Slander! Sofia never had children! You are using fairy tales to justify your coup!"
"Am I?"
I pulled out my phone and tapped the screen once.
The massive projector screen at the end of the ballroom, usually used for showing territorial maps, flickered to life.
A live, high-definition feed from the *Moretti Sovereign* appeared.
There, sitting on the sunlit deck, were my four sons. Mateo was reading a picture book to Leo, Lucas was playing with building blocks, and Nico was waving a tiny toy sword. Each of them bore the undeniable, striking features of the Moretti bloodline.
Don Lucchese stood up, staring at the screen in complete disbelief. "By the Holy Mother... they're four copies of you, Alejandro."
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"They are the legitimate heirs to the Moretti throne," I declared, looking every Don in the eye. "And Carmine Valenti sent a twelve-man hit squad to execute them in their sleep."
***