THE MAFIA BOSS’S FIANCÉE TOLD ME TO THROW OUT THE OLD WOMAN’S SOUP—THEN LUCA MORETTI SMELLED IT AND SAID, “SARAH ATE THIS EVERY DAY BEFORE SHE DIED.”

Chicago was waking up to a cold, overcast morning when the Gulfstream touched down.

The tension in the city was palpable. Every major capo, underboss, and family don belonging to the five-family Commission had gathered at the neutral territory of the Grand Blackstone Hotel downtown.

Dante Falcone—the aging, ruthless patriarch of the Falcone syndicate—sat at the head of the circular mahogany council table.

Across from him sat Luca Moretti, dressed in pure black, flanked by his senior lieutenants.

Between them sat a heavy projection screen displaying the forged neonatal DNA logs that Valentina Vance had leaked to Falcone’s operatives at sunrise.

“The rules of the Commission are ancient and absolute, Moretti,” Dante Falcone sneered, his raspy voice filling the grand council chamber. “You placed a child of unknown blood into the direct line of succession. You committed fraud against the blood oath. By the laws of our fathers, your territory is forfeit, and your life is condemned.”

The other three syndicate bosses muttered among themselves, nodding in grim agreement.

“The evidence seems clear, Luca,” said Don Carlotti, the oldest member of the Commission. “The child has no Moretti blood.”

Luca didn't flinch. He didn't even look at the screen.

“The child was legally adopted under the private seal of Sarah Moretti,” Luca said, his voice ringing through the hall like iron bells. “And the woman who orchestrated the deception was not a rogue nurse—she was an operative paid two million dollars by you, Dante.”

Falcone scoffed loudly.

“Desperate lies from a dead man walking!”

The heavy double doors of the council chamber swung open with a resounding thud.

Every don turned their heads.

I walked down the central aisle, flanked by four armed Moretti guards, carrying the leather case bearing the red seal of the Swiss Federal Banking Authority.

I stopped beside Luca and placed the notarized documents and the audio recording squarely in the center of the council table.

“This is the official affidavit of Dr. Robert Harris,” I announced clearly, my voice echoing across the silent room. “Accompanied by bank transfer receipts proving Dante Falcone wired funds to Valentina Vance’s offshore accounts in the Cayman Islands to infiltrate the Moretti household seven years ago.”

Don Carlotti reached out, picked up the bank transfers, and examined the official seals.

His bushy eyebrows furrowed in absolute outrage.

“These accounts bear the Falcone family crest,” Carlotti declared, slamming the paper onto the table. “You attempted to compromise another family's internal succession through deceit and extortion, Dante. That is treason against the Commission.”