Chapter 9 - THE SYNDICATE COUNCIL CONVENES
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The heavy oak doors of the grand council chamber were unlocked for the first time in five years.
The room was cavernous, lined with dark walnut paneling and historical portraits of Chicago’s founding families.
At the center stood a massive circular table made of solid ebony.
Around that table sat the five bosses who controlled every illicit enterprise from Lake Michigan to the Mississippi River.
They were old, ruthless men with cold eyes and tailored suits that masked a lifetime of violence.
At the far side of the table sat Marco Bellini.
He was a tall, silver-haired man in his late fifties with sharp, predatory features and a manicured goatee.
His eyes burned with venom the moment Luca walked into the room.
Antonio walked in beside his son, taking his rightful seat at the head of the ebony table.
To everyone’s shock, Luca pulled out the leather armchair directly to his right and signaled for me to sit.
“Luca,” Don Falcone, an eighty-year-old boss with a raspy voice, growled.
“Why is a domestic servant sitting at the Commission table?”
“Emma Hayes is the chief witness in the treason charges we are bringing today,” Luca stated coldly.
“She sits where I place her.”
Marco Bellini slammed his fist against the wood, making the crystal water glasses rattle.
“This is an insult!” Marco roared, his face flushing dark red.
“Luca Moretti has broken a sacred blood vow!”
“He took my daughter hostage inside his home!”
“He canceled an alliance that was ratified by this very council!”
“And he sent hitmen to slaughter my associates on Ashland Avenue!”
The other three bosses turned their skeptical gazes toward Antonio and Luca.
“Is this true, Antonio?” Don Falcone asked slowly.
“Did your son break the engagement without council approval?”
Antonio leaned forward, folding his hands calmly over his silver cane.
“My son dissolved the engagement because the Bellini family committed high treason against the Moretti bloodline.”
Marco laughed loudly, a sound devoid of humor.
“Treason?” Marco mocked, spreading his arms wide to appeal to the other dons.
“Antonio has lost his mind!”
Marco reached into his leather briefcase and pulled out a stack of medical documents.
“I have here an official psychiatric evaluation signed yesterday by Dr. Jonathan Vance.”
“Antonio Moretti suffers from advanced vascular dementia!”
“He hallucinates past crimes!”
“He doesn't even know what day of the week it is!”
Marco looked at the council members, his eyes gleaming with triumphant deceit.
“Luca is using an old man’s senile delusions to wage an illegal war against my family!”
“I demand that the Commission strip Luca of his leadership and place Antonio under state conservatorship!”
Murmurs of agreement rippled through the older bosses.
Dementia was an unpardonable liability in their world.
If a boss could no longer remember his own orders, the entire syndicate was at risk.
Marco smiled smugly, believing he had delivered the killing blow.
I watched his arrogant grin, my blood boiling with indignation.
I looked at Luca.
Luca did not look worried at all.
In fact, a cold, predatory smirk formed on Luca’s lips.
“Are you finished, Marco?” Luca asked calmly.
Marco sneered.
May you like
“The paperwork speaks for itself, boy.”
“Then let us hear what the doctor has to say about that paperwork,” Luca replied, raising his hand toward the double doors.
