Chapter 6 - THE WAR INSIDE THE MORETTI NAME
Vincent Colombo went to prison.
Paolo survived the gunshot.
That mattered.
Alive men testified.
And Paolo had a great deal to say once he understood Vittorio had already blamed everything on him.
Niko cooperated too.
Cowards become useful when survival requires honesty.
Within a week, federal prosecutors had enough evidence to connect Vincent, Vittorio, Paolo and six others to kidnapping, extortion, racketeering and conspiracy.
But arresting Vittorio created another problem.
Half the old Moretti captains believed family matters belonged inside family walls.
I disagreed.
That nearly got me killed.
Three nights after Elena and Mia came home, Marco entered my study without knocking.
“South gate.”
I looked up.
“What?”
“Twenty-one men.”
“Whose?”
“Vittorio’s old crews.”
“Armed?”
“Yes.”
Elena sat on the sofa with Mia asleep across her lap.
Her face changed.
“You said it was over.”
“It is.”
Marco looked at me.
“No, it isn’t.”
I stood.
“Take them upstairs.”
Elena stood too.
“No.”
“Elena.”
“No more telling me to hide while you go downstairs and become a target.”
“This is different.”
“It is exactly the same.”
Marco looked at the ceiling.
He enjoyed these moments far too much.
I lowered my voice.
“Mia is here.”
“I know.”
“Then go.”
Elena stared.
“You want to protect us?”
“Yes.”
“Then stop making every dangerous decision alone.”
I had no response.
That irritated me.
Marco almost smiled.
“Boss?”
“What?”
“They’re asking for a family council.”
I laughed once.
“Of course.”
The dining room filled twenty minutes later.
Not all twenty-one entered.
Five representatives.
Uncle Stefano.
Captain Russo—not related to Marco.
Old Sal.
Two younger lieutenants.
They sat across from me.
Elena took Mia upstairs only after I promised not to start shooting.
I promised.
Mostly.
Stefano spoke first.
“You handed Vittorio to federal authorities.”
“Yes.”
“He is blood.”
“Yes.”
“You froze crew accounts.”
“Accounts tied to kidnapping.”
“You stripped men who served this family thirty years.”
“I stripped men who served themselves.”
Russo leaned forward.
“Your father would call this treason.”
“My father is dead.”
Silence.
I had spent twenty years letting a dead man vote in every room.
Enough.
Stefano’s expression hardened.
“The Moretti name existed before you.”
“Yes.”
“And after you.”
“Probably.”
“You don’t care?”
“No.”
That shocked them.
Good.
I continued.
“I care about the companies that employ twelve hundred people legally. I care about contracts that survive auditors. I care about workers who should not lose jobs because old men want to reenact 1987.”
Russo stared.
“What are you saying?”
“I’m saying the criminal side ends.”
Silence.
Marco stood behind me.
Even he had not known I would say it tonight.
Stefano laughed.
“You can’t end it.”
“Watch me.”
“Ports?”
“Legitimate logistics contracts remain.”
“Collections?”
“End.”
“Protection?”
“Licensed security.”
“Street crews?”
“Gone.”
“You’ll lose millions.”
“Yes.”
“You’ll lose power.”
“Yes.”
“You’ll lose fear.”
I looked at him.
“That is the point.”
Nobody spoke.
Then Sal leaned forward.
“You’re doing this because of the woman.”
“No.”
“Maid turns your head and suddenly generations of business disappear?”
I felt anger rise.
Then Mia’s voice came from the doorway.
“Elena is not a maid.”
Every man turned.
Mia stood in yellow pajamas holding Miss Rose.
Elena appeared behind her, horrified.
“Mia.”
The child looked at Sal.
“My mommy has a name.”
No one spoke.
I almost laughed.
Sal stared at me.
I raised an eyebrow.
“She does.”
Elena scooped Mia up.
“I am so sorry.”
“Don’t be.”
Mia pointed at Sal.
“He was rude.”
“I noticed.”
Elena carried her upstairs.
The room stayed silent.
Then Marco coughed to hide a laugh.
I looked at the five men.
“That is what you are defending.”
Russo frowned.
“A child interrupting meetings?”
“No.”
I leaned forward.
“A system where a three-year-old knows adults reduce people to jobs and usefulness.”
Nobody answered.
“My father taught me everyone had a price.”
I looked around.
“He was wrong.”
Stefano shook his head.
“You are throwing away the only thing keeping enemies from circling.”
“Enemies already kidnapped my family with help from my uncle.”
That landed.
“What exactly was our fear worth then?”
Silence again.
I continued.
“Anyone who wants legitimate work keeps it.”
“And everyone else?” Russo asked.
“Leaves.”
“What if they don’t?”
I held his gaze.
“Then they are not Moretti employees.”
“That simple?”
“No.”
I looked toward the door Mia had just disappeared through.
“Nothing worth doing is.”
The council lasted three hours.
Two men left furious.
One threatened to split territory.
I let him.
Another captain resigned the next morning.
Fine.
Within six weeks, three illegal revenue streams were shut.
Two warehouses were sold.
One club became a restaurant.
The old gambling rooms closed.
We transferred weapons information to prosecutors through counsel.
Marco complained for a month.
Then discovered legitimate security companies paid extremely well.
Niko entered witness protection.
Vittorio took a plea rather than face life.
He requested one meeting with me before sentencing.
I went.
He sat behind glass.
Older.
Smaller.
“You destroyed us.”
I looked at him.
“No.”
“You think those people upstairs are family?”
“Elena and Mia?”
He flinched.
“Yes.”
“I know they are.”
“She’ll leave you.”
“Maybe.”
“The child will grow up.”
“Hopefully.”
“You gave up an empire for temporary affection.”
I almost felt sorry for him.
“Vittorio.”
He looked at me.
“You still think love has value only if it guarantees possession.”
His face tightened.
“I gave up an empire because it kept turning people into leverage.”
I stood.
“Goodbye.”
“Dominic.”
I stopped.
“You’ll regret becoming weak.”
I looked back.
Three months earlier, I might have wondered.
Now I knew.
Weakness was needing everyone afraid because you had nothing else holding them near.
I smiled faintly.
“No.”
Then I left.
Outside, Elena waited in the car.
Mia sat in the back seat singing to Miss Rose.
I got in.
Elena looked at me.
“How was it?”
“Boring.”
“You’re lying.”
“Yes.”
She studied me.
Then reached over.
Her fingers touched mine.
Not romance.
Not yet.
Something quieter.
Trust.
I looked at her hand.
Then at her.
“You know you don’t owe me anything.”
“I know.”
“House. Security. Job.”
“I know.”
“None of it.”
She squeezed my hand once.
“Dominic.”
“What?”
“Stop ruining moments by negotiating.”
I almost smiled.
In the back seat, Mia shouted.
“Music!”
I looked at her.
“No.”
“Yes.”
“No.”
She crossed her arms.
“Piano gets lonely.”
Elena laughed.
I closed my eyes.
The Moretti empire was collapsing.
Federal agents were reviewing half my life.
My uncle hated me.
Old allies called me weak.
And somehow—
I had never felt less trapped.
“Fine,” I said.
Mia cheered.
May you like
“Music.”
We drove home.
