98I came home early and nearly fired the young maid I found sitting on my kitchen floor, making my three daughters laugh for the first time since their mother was murdered. But before I could throw her out, my eldest daughter grabbed my coat, looked me straight in the eyes, and spoke her first words in fourteen months: “Daddy killed Mommy.”

Marcus forced a hollow, nervous chuckle, trying to regain his composure as he leaned back in his chair.

“Dominic, my boy,” Marcus stammered, his voice lacking its previous authority. “You misunderstand. We were merely discussing how to lighten your burden... so you could spend more time with your sweet little girls.”

Dominic’s hand shot out with lightning speed, grabbing Marcus by the throat and slamming his head down hard onto the mahogany table!

THUD!

Several captains gasped, but no one moved an inch to help Marcus.

“Do not speak of my daughters,” Dominic hissed near Marcus’s ear, his grip tightening until Marcus began to gasp for air, his hands clawing helplessly at Dominic’s arm.

Dominic pulled an encrypted tablet from his jacket pocket with his free hand, tossing it onto the center of the conference table for all twelve captains to see.

“On September 14th of last year,” Dominic announced to the room, his voice echoing off the high glass walls, “an encrypted call was routed through Marcus Russo’s private server in this very building. That call spoofed my private number and directed my wife Isabella to take the Queens expressway—straight into a Mendoza cartel kill box.”

A violent gasp went through the room. The twelve captains stared at Marcus in utter disgust and disbelief. Even in the lawless world of the syndicate, betraying another man’s wife and children was an unforgivable sin punishable by death.

“Marcus didn't just coordinate with Mendoza,” Dominic revealed, pulling up bank routing records on the screen. “He paid them ten million dollars from our off-shore accounts to execute the hit, then used my grief to send our soldiers to wipe out Mendoza so there would be no living witnesses.”

Marcus gagged, his eyes wide with sheer terror as he looked up at the cold, unyielding face of his nephew.

“You... you have no... proof...” Marcus choked out weakly.

Dominic leaned down closer, his dark eyes locking onto Marcus’s failing gaze.

“My daughter Lucia gave me the proof last night, Marcus,” Dominic whispered, his voice trembling with a chilling satisfaction. “She heard your voice on the car speakers before the bullets started flying. She carried your sin for fourteen months.”