Chapter 6 - The Feast of Vengeance
The grand ballroom on the top floor of Kade Tower was a sea of glittering gold, black silk, and polished glass.
It was 8:00 PM on a freezing Saturday night. Over two hundred high-ranking members of the city’s underworld filled the room—corrupt city officials, syndicate bosses, and the entire high command of the Marchetti crime family.
Silas Marchetti, a broad, silver-haired man in his late fifties with cold blue eyes, stood near the champagne fountain, holding a crystal glass. Beside him stood Genevieve, looking radiant in a emerald green velvet gown, a diamond necklace glittering around her throat.
"You did well, my daughter," Silas murmured in a low voice, taking a sip of his drink. "Once you sign the blood-union contract tonight, Weston’s shipping lines and construction firms will be legally merged into our offshore holdings. The Kade empire will be ours within six months."
Genevieve smirked, adjusting her diamond earring. "I told you, Father. Weston is weak. He’s been broken ever since Odalys and the brat died. He has no fight left in him."
At the head of the ballroom, the heavy double oak doors swung open.
Weston Kade stepped into the room.
He looked immaculate. He wore a midnight-black double-breasted tuxedo, his dark hair combed back, his posture commanding and absolute. Walking beside him was Marcus, accompanied by eight elite Kade security officers dressed in dark suits.
The room fell silent as Weston walked toward the raised dais where the blood-union contract lay on a velvet-covered table.
Silas Marchetti stepped forward, a wide, false smile spreading across his face as he extended his hand. "Weston! My boy! Tonight, the war between our families ends forever!"
Weston did not take Silas’s hand. He stood at the center of the stage, looking down at the two hundred guests gathered below.
"Yes, Silas," Weston said, his deep voice carrying effortlessly through the quiet room. "Tonight, the war ends."
Genevieve stepped onto the stage, picking up the golden fountain pen from the table. "Let’s sign the agreement, Weston. The press and the syndicate captains are waiting."
Weston turned his gray eyes to Genevieve. "Before we sign, Genevieve... I have a gift for you. A small token from an old friend."
Genevieve frowned. "A gift?"
Weston nodded to Marcus.
Marcus stepped over to the main multimedia console at the side of the stage and pressed a button.
Instantly, the crystal chandeliers in the ballroom dimmed. The massive forty-foot high-definition screens lining the ballroom walls flickered to life.
A high-resolution audio waveform appeared on the screens, accompanied by verified bank transfer documents, forensic police reports, and crime scene photographs.
Then, Genevieve’s voice boomed through the ballroom’s high-end surround-sound speakers, clear, sharp, and undeniable:
"Make sure the wife and the brat are inside before you trigger it. Weston needs to suffer enough that he’ll agree to the truce merger... We take Kade Enterprises from the inside."
Gasps exploded through the crowd!
Silas Marchetti’s face went instantly pale as death.
Genevieve froze, the golden pen slipping from her fingers, clattering loudly against the glass table. Her eyes went wide with pure, unadulterated terror as she looked at the screen, watching her own voice print match her encrypted phone records from three years ago.
The audio transitioned into Leo Osei’s deathbed confession, detailing how Genevieve had ordered the bombing and executed his garage assistant.
The two hundred syndicate captains in the room began to whisper furiously, looking at the Marchettis with sudden, lethal disgust. Even in the mafia, the murder of a Don’s five-year-old child was a line that no man was permitted to cross.
"This... this is a lie!" Genevieve shrieked, her voice cracking with hysteria as she backed away from Weston. "It’s a forgery! He made it up!"
"It is not a forgery, Genevieve," Weston said softly, stepping toward her. He reached into his coat pocket and pulled out Nadia’s silver star pendant, letting it dangle from his fingers in front of her face. "This was inside the doll Leo Osei made for his daughter before your men burned him alive."
Silas Marchetti panicked, reaching frantically for the concealed pistol under his tuxedo jacket! "Guards! Kill him!"
BANG! BANG!
Before Silas’s hand could clear his holster, Marcus fired two precise shots. Silas collapsed onto the velvet carpet, clutching his shattered shoulder, screaming in agony!
Instantly, forty heavily armed Kade tactical officers burst through the ballroom doors, their assault rifles raised, heavy red laser sights painting bright dots on every Marchetti soldier in the room.
Within thirty seconds, every Marchetti captain was disarmed and forced to their knees.
Genevieve stumbled back against the wall, sobbing hysterically, looking at Weston as he walked slowly toward her.
"Weston... please!" Genevieve wept, dropping to her knees, reaching out to touch his boots. "I did it because I loved you! I wanted you to be mine! I wanted us to rule the city together!"
Weston looked down at her with eyes that contained no heat, no anger—only absolute, icy judgment.
"You didn't kill my child because you loved me, Genevieve," Weston whispered. "You did it because you were a monster. And tonight, the monsters pay."
He looked at Marcus. "Hand her and Silas over to the federal task force waiting downstairs, along with the full contents of the drive. Make sure they spend the rest of their lives in a concrete cell, staring at four walls."
As the federal agents dragged a screaming, hysterical Genevieve and a bleeding Silas out of the ballroom, Weston stood alone on the stage.
May you like
He looked out over the quiet ballroom, pulled Nadia’s silver star pendant from his pocket, and held it tightly in his fist.
"It’s over, baby girl," Weston murmured to the quiet air. "You can rest now."
