Chapter 6 - The Fall of the House of Moretti
The heavy oak doors of the boardroom slammed back against the mahogany paneling as the federal agents moved in with military precision.
The six regional capos sat frozen in their leather chairs, staring in stunned disbelief as the cold steel handcuffs clicked sharply around Arthur Vance’s wrists. The veteran lawyer opened his mouth to protest, his eyes darting frantically toward Elena Moretti, but no words came out. His face was the color of wet chalk.
"This is an outrage! You have no jurisdiction here! I demand to speak with the District Attorney!" Elena shrieked, her aristocratic facade completely incinerated by rage and sudden, primal terror. She stood up so violently her chair tipped backward and crashed onto the Persian rug. "Dominic! You treacherous, ungrateful bastard! Your own mother!"
I didn't blink. I stood my ground halfway down the long mahogany table, my hands resting calmly over the heavy gold signet ring on my finger.
"You chose money and control over family, Mother," I said, my voice cutting through her hysterics like a scalpel. "You signed your own warrant the day you decided to lie to me about my sons."
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The lead federal agent stepped past Arthur, walking directly toward Elena with a pair of matching cuffs extended. "Mrs. Moretti, anything you say can and will be used against you in a court of law. Turn around and place your hands behind your back."
As they led her away, her manicured nails clawing uselessly at the air while she screamed curses that echoed down the hallway, the remaining capos shrank back into their seats. Not a single man raised a hand to stop them. In the underworld, power belonged to whoever held the checkbook and the strategy—and the old guard had just realized their queen had played her final hand.
