Chapter 8 - The Syndicate Council and the Father's Ultimatum
While our tactical strike team was mobilizing the high-speed assault boats at our private marina, I had Dominic initiate an emergency encrypted video conference with the leaders of the Five Families of the Eastern Seaboard Syndicate.
At 3:30 AM, five high-definition monitors in our mobile command center illuminated with the faces of the most powerful underworld bosses in New York, Philadelphia, and Boston.
Among them was Don Carmine Lucchese, the eighty-year-old chairman of the Syndicate Commission.
“Dante,” Don Carmine spoke, his raspy voice thick with annoyance. “What is the meaning of an emergency council at three in the morning? We are on the brink of an all-out turf war in New Jersey!”
I adjusted my camera, stepping into the frame wearing my tactical gear, my rifle slung across my chest.
Beside me, Dominic held an iPad displaying the certified DNA paternity analysis from Columbia University, the confession audio from Lorenzo, and the satellite tracking data of Victor Rossi’s yacht.
“Gentlemen,” I spoke, my voice echoing with ice-cold authority across the encrypted network. “Three years ago, the Commission signed a sacred pact guaranteeing that women and children were completely off-limits in any commercial dispute.”
The four Dons nodded in agreement.
“Three years ago,” I continued, “Victor Rossi detonated a bomb at St. Jude’s Hospital to abduct my newborn son, Mateo Moretti, intending to use my flesh and blood as an extortion tool to seize the Port Newark terminals.”
Don Carmine’s eyes widened in profound shock. “Dante… your son died in that hospital fire. We all attended the memorial.”
“My son is alive,” I declared, holding up the forensic genetic confirmation. “He was rescued by a heroic nurse and has been returned to my arms tonight. And twenty minutes ago, Victor Rossi sent fifteen foreign mercenaries to breach my private estate and execute the boy in his crib.”
A chorus of furious, disbelieving gasps erupted across the video monitors.
In the old-school code of the Italian-American syndicate, targeting a Don’s newborn infant was the ultimate, unforgivable sacrilege—a crime punishable by total, merciless extermination.
Don Carmine slammed his fist onto his desk.
“Victor Rossi has broken the ancient blood oath,” Don Carmine declared, his voice shaking with righteous fury. “As Chairman of the Commission, I declare Victor Rossi and his entire organization Persona Non Grata. The Moretti Family has full, unrestricted authority to execute total retribution. No family shall harbor him. No family shall trade with his bloodline. Eradicate him, Dante.”
“With pleasure, Don Carmine,” I said.
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I clicked the connection shut, turned toward the open deck of our triple-engine midnight-black interceptor boat, and shouted to the helmsman:
“Full throttle to the Brooklyn Navy Yard!”
