Chapter 14 - The Sovereign Reckoning
The grand ballroom of the Romano estate in Westchester had not seen a full assembly of the Syndicate Council in ten years.
Twelve capos representing the largest criminal operations on the Eastern Seaboard sat around the massive oval oak table.
At the head of the table sat Salvatore Castiglione, resplendent in an immaculate bespoke charcoal suit.
His silver hair was combed back with aristocratic precision, his hands resting gracefully upon the silver head of his cane.
He had convened this emergency summit to declare himself the Supreme Regent of the unified families.
“Brothers,” Salvatore spoke, his resonant voice commanding the terrified silence of the room.
“Nico Romano has gone rogue.”
“He attacked our private facilities in the north, killed our men, and attempted to abduct the young heiress.”
“As the rightful patriarch of the Castiglione bloodline, I am stepping in to assume direct custody of Ava Romano.”
“The eighty-million-dollar estate will be consolidated under my personal council.”
The capos nodded nervously, completely intimidated by the resurrected patriarch’s reputation for merciless brutality.
Suddenly, the massive double mahogany doors at the rear of the ballroom blew inward with an ear-splitting crash.
Nico Romano strode into the room, his long trench coat billowing behind him.
He was flanked by eight heavily armed security operatives wearing tactical armor.
Nico tossed a bloodied, bound Matteo Rossi onto the polished parquet floor in the center of the room like a sack of garbage.
The capos leaped to their feet, reaching for their concealed weapons.
“Nobody draw!” Nico roared, his voice carrying the authority of an absolute monarch.
“Unless you want your families wiped off the map before sunrise!”
Salvatore remained seated, sneering with haughty contempt.
“You're too late, boy,” Salvatore mocked.
“You have no standing here.”
“You’re an outlaw in your own syndicate.”
Nico did not argue.
He simply turned toward the open doorway and raised his hand.
Walking through the shattered doors, side by side, came Claire Romano and Sofia Romano.
They wore identical high-collared black silk dresses, their dark hair pinned in identical elegant updos.
Behind their left ears, the crescent half-moon birthmarks were proudly, brilliantly displayed under the crystal chandeliers.
Between them, holding both of their hands, walked five-year-old Ava Romano, smiling like an angelic princess.
The entire ballroom plunged into a dead, horrifying silence.
Old mobsters gasped aloud, some crossing themselves as if facing the archangels of the apocalypse.
Paulie Russo dropped his crystal glass of scotch onto the floor, the liquid splashing across his polished shoes.
“Holy Mother of God,” Paulie breathed in sheer terror.
“Claire… and Sofia…”
Salvatore Castiglione’s arrogant sneer vanished, replaced by an expression of sickly, green panic.
Claire stepped forward, her voice carrying the clear, ringing tone of absolute authority.
“Look upon us, Council of the East,” Claire announced, her eyes sweeping across the trembling capos.
“Thirty years ago, Salvatore Castiglione and Vincent Romano conspired to violate the Sacred Covenant of our founder.”
Sofia stepped forward beside her sister, matching her posture with effortless nobility.
“They murdered my identity to prevent the dissolution of their illegal empire,” Sofia proclaimed.
“They paid Dr. Vance to forge my death certificate as an infant.”
“They paid hitmen with Vincent’s personal ammunition to execute Eleanor Lane in Queens twelve hours ago!”
Nico threw a heavy leather briefcase onto the center of the oak table.
The latches popped open, spilling hundreds of legal documents, bank records, and forensic ballistics reports across the polished wood.
“Here are the ballistic matches from the NYPD homicide unit,” Nico said coldly, pointing at Matteo Rossi on the floor.
“The bullet that killed Eleanor Lane was fired from Matteo’s personal sidearm.”
“And here is the sworn video deposition from Dr. Vance, currently in federal protective custody.”
Nico looked at Paulie Russo and the other senior capos.
“Salvatore has been skimming twelve percent off every port shipment for the last five years while hiding in the Adirondacks.”
“He treated every single one of you as disposable pawns to fund his private sanitarium.”
The capos turned their gazes toward Salvatore, their faces twisting from fear into murderous, violent betrayal.
“Is this true, Salvatore?” Paulie Russo snarled, stepping away from the table.
Salvatore slammed his cane against the floor, leaping to his feet, his aristocratic facade completely shattering.
“Insolent dogs!” Salvatore shrieked, pulling a compact derringer pistol from his sleeve.
“I made this family!”
“I built every dock you steal from!”
Before Salvatore could level the barrel at Sofia, Matteo Rossi rolled over on the floor.
Desperate to save his own skin, Matteo grabbed the gold-plated revolver from his waistband and fired three rapid shots into Salvatore’s chest.
The old patriarch gasped, his obsidian cane flying from his hand, and collapsed backward across the oak table, dead before he hit the wood.
Nico stepped forward and smoothly disarmed Matteo, kicking him into the waiting arms of the estate security guards.
“Take him to the federal prosecutor’s office,” Nico commanded.
“Let the state give him the needle for Eleanor’s murder.”
Nico looked around the room at the remaining capos, who stood with their heads bowed in total submission.
May you like
The reign of terror was broken.
The syndicate belonged entirely to the two sisters standing under the chandelier.
