Chapter 7 - The Siege of the Plaza
The annual Rossi Syndicate Gala at the grand ballroom of the Plaza Hotel was a glittering exhibition of wealth, power, and absolute hypocrisy.
Hundreds of high-ranking mob bosses, corrupt politicians, and international arms dealers mingled beneath crystal chandeliers, sipping vintage champagne and listening to a live string quartet.
At the center of it all stood my mother, Elena Rossi, wearing a sweeping emerald-green evening gown, accepting congratulatory handshakes as the undisputed queen of the underworld.
“To new beginnings,” Elena smiled, raising a crystal flute of champagne toward the assembled crowd from the raised dais. “And to the permanent security of the Rossi dynasty.”
“I wouldn't drink that just yet, Mother,” a calm, resonant voice echoed through the grand ballroom’s sound system.
The music cut off instantly.
Every head in the room whipped toward the grand double doors at the entrance of the ballroom.
The heavy oak doors slowly swung inward.
I walked into the ballroom, flanked by Marcus and twelve heavily armed men in tactical gear, their assault rifles held at port arms. Behind us, the ballroom doors locked automatically, sealing every exit.
Gasps rippled through the crowd. Several corrupt politicians instinctively reached for their cell phones, only to find their screens blank—our tech team had jammed all cellular signals in a three-block radius.
Elena’s champagne flute slipped from her fingers, shattering against the marble floor. Her immaculate composure cracked, her face turning chalk-white as she stared at me, dumbfounded.
“Julian... impossible,” she whispered, taking a step back toward the dais. “You were... you were eliminated.”
“Did you really think a few hired guns in a drainage tunnel could stop me?” I asked, walking slowly down the center aisle, the polished leather of my boots clicking rhythmically against the floor.
“Guards!” Elena shrieked, her voice echoing off the vaulted ceilings. “Kill him! Kill him now!”
Ten of her personal enforcers rushed out from the side wings, drawing their weapons.
They didn't even get their safety catches off.
Marcus and his men raised their rifles with terrifying precision. A deafening volley of non-lethal heavy rubber baton rounds and flashbangs detonated across the room. Elena’s enforcers were swept off their feet, crashing hard against the banquet tables, groaning in pain as they were swarmed and zip-tied in seconds.
The terrified guests scattered like sheep, diving under tables and scrambling toward the corners of the room.
I walked right up the steps of the dais, stopping two feet away from my mother.
May you like
She trembled, her aristocratic facade completely shattered, her chest heaving as she stared up into my cold, unforgiving eyes.
“You lost, Elena,” I said quietly, loud enough for every terrified capo and politician in the room to hear. “Your accounts are frozen. Your docks are seized. And your reign of terror over this family is officially over.”
