Chapter 11 - Reckoning on the 41st Floor
Arthur lunged for the heavy brass letter opener on his desk, desperate to make a final, suicidal dash for survival. But Dante moved faster, grabbing Arthur by the collar and slamming him against the floor with bone-crushing force.
Arthur gasped for air, his expensive suit tearing as Dante pinned him beneath his knee. "Nine years, Arthur," Dante whispered, his voice trembling with a terrifying blend of grief and rage. "You stood at her grave with me."
"I had to do it," Arthur choked out, spitting blood onto the carpet. "You were taking the family in a weak direction. Moretti offered me fifty percent of the Chicago territory."
Emily stood nearby, calmly checking her watch while watching the violent confrontation unfold at her feet. "Can we wrap this up? I have to pick up my brother from his facility by six, and traffic on the Kennedy Expressway is always a nightmare."
Dante looked up at Emily, the dark storm in his eyes suddenly parting to reveal a profound, overwhelming clarity. He let out a soft, genuine chuckle that held no madness, only the quiet relief of a burden lifted after nine years.
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"Go," Dante said softly, looking down at Arthur before returning his gaze to her. "I'll handle the cleanup, and I'll wire the quarterly bonus to your account right now."
Emily nodded once, adjusted her trench coat, and walked toward the elevator without looking back at the defeated traitor.
