Chapter 8 - The Syndicate Summit
The Valenti Manor in Chicago’s Gold Coast was an imposing Gothic structure of dark limestone, flanked by black iron gates and guarded by dozens of armed men in tuxedos.
Rain slicked the driveway as a line of luxury black sedans pulled up to the grand portico at 5:45 PM.
Inside the grand ballroom on the main floor, sixty senior syndicate leaders, territory captains, and cartel bosses sat around a massive round table made of black marble.
At the head of the table sat Don Eduardo Valenti—a sixty-eight-year-old man with snow-white hair, sharp dark eyes, and a silk suit worth more than most men made in a year.
"Gentlemen," Don Valenti announced, leaning his heavy gold ringed hands on the marble table. "Thank you for gathering on such short notice. As you know, my son-in-law, Matteo Varric, has suffered a severe mental collapse following the loss of my daughter Helena. Last night, he attacked his own compound, destroyed my security team, and fled into the night with the child."
A murmur of dark concern rippled through the seated bosses.
"Under Article 4 of our charter," Valenti continued smoothly, his voice filled with practiced sorrow, "I move that Matteo Varric be declared unfit to hold executive authority over the Lakefront shipping territory, and that full guardianship of the boy be transferred to the Valenti trust—"
BOOM!
The massive double mahogany doors of the ballroom were blown clean off their hinges by a controlled hydraulic charge!
Splintered wood and stone dust hurled across the marble entryway as the room erupted into chaos! Bosses reached for concealed weapons, chairs scraped violently against the floor, and guards raised automatic submachine guns!
Out of the smoke walked Matteo Varric.
He wore a bespoke dark charcoal suit, his broad shoulders squared, his grey eyes sweeping over the sixty cartel leaders like a hungry lion entering a cage.
Beside him walked Liana Graves.
She wore a breathtaking, floor-length gown of midnight blue silk, her shoulders bare, a diamond choker glistening at her throat—a gift from the Varric vault. Her hair was styled in a striking crown of dark braids, her posture regal, cold, and entirely untouchable.
Behind them stood Marcus, Evelyn, and twenty heavily armed Varric tactical enforcers, their rifles leveled at Valenti’s guards.
"Sit down, Eduardo," Matteo’s voice thundered through the ballroom, cutting through the panic like an iron blade.
Don Valenti went pale, his gold ringed fingers tightening around his armrests. "Matteo! You dare break peace at the Commission table?"
"I am not breaking peace, Eduardo," Matteo said, stepping up to the black marble table and resting his hands on the polished surface. "I am delivering justice."
Valenti let out a sneering laugh, attempting to regain control of the room. "Look at you! Walking in here with a maid from your staff, dressed in silks! Gentlemen, this man has lost his mind! He brings a servant to a council of Don's!"
Liana stepped forward. She didn't raise her voice. She didn't hesitate.
She pulled a heavy silver digital tablet from her velvet clutch and tossed it onto the center of the black marble table, right in front of the oldest boss in the city—Don Carmine of the Brooklyn syndicate.
"My name is Liana Graves," her voice echoed, crisp, clear, and ringing with absolute, unquestioned authority. "Nine months ago, Don Valenti paid Nurse Sarah two hundred thousand dollars to steal my newborn son from St. Jude’s Hospital after his daughter’s baby was born dead."
The entire room went deathly quiet.
Don Carmine looked down at the tablet, pressing play on Nurse Sarah’s confession, while scanning the certified DNA documents displaying Liana’s 99.9% match beside Matteo’s bloodline profile.
"This is a lie!" Valenti shrieked, standing up, his face turning an ugly, mottled red. "She’s a fraud! A common street woman paid by Matteo to forge documents!"
"The DNA sequencing was verified two hours ago by the State Forensic Board, Eduardo," Don Carmine stated, his old, raspy voice dripping with disgust as he raised his eyes to glare at Valenti. "And the audio voice print matches Nurse Sarah perfectly."
Don Carmine looked around the table at the fifty-nine other bosses.
"Valenti," Carmine growled, "you stole a child from a mother’s breast. You violated the sacred blood oath of the Commission. You lied to us to take control of the Varric docks."
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Valenti realized in a fraction of a second that he had lost. The bosses pulled back from him, their hands dropping to their holsters, their eyes cold with murderous contempt.
"Guards!" Valenti screamed in desperation. "Kill them all!"
