Chapter 6 - THE CITY CHOOSES SIDES
Carlo Rizzi was buried before sunset.
There were no reporters.
No procession.
No line of black limousines announcing that an important man had died.
Vincent chose a small cemetery in Queens and six witnesses.
Carlo’s widow stood beside the grave with one hand around her daughter’s arm. She did not look at Vincent until the priest finished.
Then she walked toward him.
For a moment, everyone expected grief.
Instead, she slapped him.
The sound was sharp in the cold air.
Vincent did not move.
Carlo’s daughter gasped.
Luca stepped forward.
Vincent raised one hand and stopped him.
Mrs. Rizzi’s eyes filled with tears she refused to let fall.
“Forty years,” she said. “Forty years he came home when you allowed him to come home.”
Vincent accepted the words.
“He loved you more than he feared me.”
“That was his mistake.”
“Yes.”
She looked at the fresh bandage on his cheek.
“How many more?”
Vincent did not pretend to misunderstand.
“I don’t know.”
“That is the first truthful thing I ever heard from a Moretti.”
She walked away.
Luca stood beside his father as the cemetery workers lowered the coffin.
“You could have told her it wasn’t your fault.”
Vincent looked at the grave.
“It was.”
“You didn’t fire the shot.”
“I brought him.”
“That logic makes everything your fault.”
Vincent finally looked at him.
“You’re learning.”
Luca almost answered, then stopped.
There was nothing useful to say.
By nightfall, New York’s underworld had divided into three categories: men who thought Vincent was dying, men who thought Luca was taking over, and men who quietly moved their money out of both men’s reach.
Rumors traveled faster than orders.
The Bellomo crew seized two Moretti gambling rooms in Brooklyn. A trucking company stopped answering Moretti calls. Three union stewards suddenly developed loyalty to men they had hated the week before.
Then someone leaked photographs from the hotel dinner.
Not the bodies.
The empty chairs.
The blood on the table.
Vincent’s untouched birthday cake.
The message was obvious.
The Moretti empire had eaten itself.
Vincent watched the images on a television inside an apartment above a closed bakery in Bensonhurst.
“Turn it off,” he said.
Daniel turned it off.
Around the kitchen table sat Vincent, Luca, Elena, Anthony, Daniel, and two remaining Moretti soldiers. Isabella’s ledger lay open beside the encrypted drives from the harbor.
They had been working for three hours.
Daniel managed to unlock one drive.
Most files were financial maps. Transfers connected Bell Meridian to shell companies in six states and three countries. Legal businesses mixed with criminal revenue so thoroughly that one could not be removed without injuring the other.
Hospitals rented buildings from Crown-owned firms.
Police pension funds invested in Crown-managed funds.
A city contractor borrowed from a Crown bank.
A television station leased equipment from a Crown subsidiary.
The system had become exactly what Anthony described.
Dependence.
The second drive remained locked.
Daniel leaned back from the laptop.
“Encryption key is personal.”
Vincent looked at him. “Meaning?”
“Meaning Isabella expected one person to open it.”
“Me.”
“Probably.”
“What does it want?”
“A twelve-character phrase.”
Vincent almost laughed.
“My wife knew I hated passwords.”
Luca looked at the photograph from the harbor.
Dominic was seventeen in it.
Isabella stood with one hand on his shoulder.
“What year?”
Anthony looked at the church wall visible behind them.
“2001.”
Luca did the math.
“Four years before the fire.”
Vincent corrected him. “Dominic was nineteen.”
Luca studied his brother’s face.
Dominic had always seemed older.
When Luca was eight, Dominic was already the quiet brother who did homework at the dining table while Vincent met captains downstairs. When Luca was twelve, Dominic left for college. When he was nineteen, Dominic told their father he would not inherit the family.
Vincent had called him weak.
Dominic left for London two months later.
Luca remembered Isabella crying in the kitchen after that argument.
Not because Dominic left.
Because Vincent did not stop him.
Elena tapped the photograph.
“If Dominic knew about the Crown as a teenager, maybe he didn’t leave the family business.”
Anthony nodded. “Maybe he entered another part of it.”
Vincent’s expression hardened.
“My son built a legitimate company.”
Daniel gave him a look.
“His company manages fourteen billion dollars.”
“Yes.”
“And Bell Meridian uses private investment vehicles.”
Vincent stared at him.
Daniel turned the laptop.
“I checked. Dominic’s firm has indirect exposure to three Crown-linked funds.”
Luca said, “Indirect.”
“Enough layers that it could be coincidence.”
Vincent’s voice turned cold.
“There are no coincidences left.”
A phone buzzed on the table.
One of the soldiers answered, listened, then looked at Vincent.
“Boss. The Bellomos took the Atlantic Avenue club.”
“How many?”
“Maybe twenty.”
Vincent stood.
Luca said, “Sit down.”
Everyone looked at him.
Vincent slowly turned.
“What did you say?”
Luca held his gaze.
“This is what the Crown wants. They hit something visible. You hit back. Every crew chooses a side. The city tears itself apart while whoever is behind this buys what’s left.”
“They took my property.”
“They took bait.”
Vincent stepped toward him.
“Men who steal from me need to learn—”
“What? That you’re still Vincent Moretti?”
The room became silent.
Luca stood too.
“That is exactly what they already know. They know what makes you move. They know what makes you angry. They know what insult you can’t ignore. Your reputation is a button, Father. They keep pressing it because you keep proving it works.”
Vincent’s eyes narrowed.
Anthony watched without interfering.
Finally Vincent sat.
The soldier looked confused.
“What do I tell the crews?”
Vincent stared at Luca for another second.
Then he said, “Tell them Atlantic Avenue is closed.”
“Closed?”
“Cut the electricity. Cancel deliveries. Freeze accounts tied to the club. Let the Bellomos sit in an empty room and pay for the privilege.”
Luca sat slowly.
A faint smile touched Anthony’s face.
Vincent noticed.
“Don’t.”
Anthony raised both hands.
“No comment.”
Daniel’s laptop chimed.
He leaned forward.
“I found something in the metadata.”
“On the drive?” Elena asked.
“No. The photograph.”
Daniel had scanned it at high resolution. On the back, invisible beneath age stains, faint indentation marks formed a sentence from writing on a sheet once placed above it.
He enhanced the image.
Three words became readable.
DOM KNOWS MERIDIAN.
Luca stared.
“Dom knows Bell Meridian.”
Anthony shook his head. “Could mean he knows about it, not that he runs it.”
Vincent looked at the encrypted drive.
“Call him.”
Luca frowned. “Directly?”
“Yes.”
“That tells him we know he’s here.”
“He already knows.”
Vincent took a clean phone from Daniel.
“What number?”
Luca stared at him.
“You don’t have your own son’s number?”
“He changes it.”
“No. You stopped calling.”
Vincent’s eyes hardened.
“Number.”
Luca recited it from memory.
Vincent dialed.
One ring.
Two.
Three.
A man answered.
“Hello, Father.”
Nobody in the kitchen moved.
Vincent’s voice was steady.
“Where are you?”
Dominic laughed softly.
“Twelve years and that’s your first question.”
“Where are you?”
“In the city.”
“I know.”
“I assumed you would by now.”
“Carlo is dead.”
Silence.
For the first time, Dominic’s calm broke.
“How?”
“Saving us.”
“Us?”
“Luca is here.”
Another silence.
Then Dominic said, “Put him on.”
Vincent handed the phone to Luca.
Luca held it like something dangerous.
“Dom.”
“Little brother.”
“You knew I was alive.”
“Yes.”
“How?”
“Because I helped arrange it.”
Elena looked sharply at Luca.
Luca’s face went blank.
“What are you talking about?”
“The burning car. The false dental records. The route out. Salvatore thought he organized it for you. He didn’t.”
Luca stood.
“You were the second channel.”
“Yes.”
“Why didn’t you tell me?”
“Because you would have told Elena.”
Elena’s expression sharpened.
Dominic continued through the speaker.
“And Elena has been compromised from the beginning.”
Every eye in the room turned toward her.
Elena slowly rose from the table.
Luca said, “Explain.”
“I can’t over this line.”
“You just accused her.”
“I warned you.”
“Same difference.”
“No. An accusation says I know she betrayed you. A warning says someone has been using her credentials to access Crown channels for eight months.”
Elena went pale.
“That’s impossible.”
Dominic heard her.
“Is Elena there?”
“Yes,” Luca said.
“Then all of you need to leave now.”
Daniel looked at his computer.
“Why?”
Dominic answered immediately.
“Because if she brought the phone she thinks is clean, it isn’t.”
Elena reached into her coat.
Daniel shouted, “Don’t touch it!”
Too late.
The phone in her pocket lit by itself.
A single black crown appeared on the screen.
Then every light in the apartment went out.
From the street below came the squeal of brakes.
Multiple vehicles.
Vincent drew his gun.
Luca did the same.
On the dark phone screen, beneath the black crown, one sentence appeared.
THANK YOU FOR GATHERING THE FAMILY.
Vincent looked toward the black windows. Shapes were already moving behind the curtains of the building across the street. He could not see faces, only disciplined silhouettes taking positions. This was not a street crew arriving angry. It was a team arriving prepared.
He glanced at Luca, then Dominic’s voice crackled through the phone one final time.
“Father, for once in your life, do exactly what I say.”
May you like
Vincent almost laughed.
Then the first round struck the brick outside.
