Chapter 8 - The Shadow of the Docks
Three weeks passed.
The Vescari estate was entirely locked down under my new security protocols. Every guard was thoroughly vetted, every vehicle scanned, and every encrypted line monitored.
Leo's confession allowed us to completely neutralize the Moretti family's attempt to take over the Chicago shipping yards. Julian moved swiftly, seizing twenty million dollars in illegal assets and handing the evidence regarding my brother's murder directly to a clean federal prosecutor he had personally backed.
My brother's name was officially cleared. The men responsible for his death were locked behind bars without bail.
On a rainy Tuesday evening, Julian and I rode in the back of his custom, armored Mercedes, heading toward the South Side docks.
Julian sat beside me, his hand firmly holding mine, his thumb softly rubbing the back of my fingers.
"You don't have to be here for this, Clara," Julian said quietly, watching the raindrops streak across the bulletproof glass window.
"I want to be here," I insisted, looking at him. "This is where Thomas worked. I need to see it end."
The Mercedes pulled into a massive, cavernous warehouse at Pier 42.
A fleet of five armored Escalades stood waiting inside, their headlights illuminating a tied-up man sitting in a chair in the center of the concrete floor.
It was Donato Moretti—the head of the Moretti family's rogue operational faction.
Julian's chair was unloaded from the side ramp of the Mercedes by Marco. I walked beside Julian as he wheeled himself smoothly across the concrete floor toward Donato.
Donato looked up, his face bruised and bloody from a previous struggle with Marco's team.
"Julian Vescari..." Donato spat, bleeding from his lip. "The crippled king of Chicago."
Julian stopped his chair three feet from Donato. He didn't show anger. He didn't raise his voice.
"You paid my cousin five million dollars to cut my brakes, Donato," Julian stated calmly. "You killed an innocent engineer named Thomas Miller. And you thought you could take my docks."
"Your docks?!" Donato laughed bitterly. "You're half a man, Julian! You sit in a chair while your empire crumbles!"
Julian reached into his suit jacket, pulled out a signed federal warrant and a set of transfer documents, and tossed them into Donato's lap.
"Those docks no longer belong to you or me, Donato," Julian revealed coldly. "I signed Pier 42 over to the Port Authority of Chicago ten minutes ago. The federal marshals are entering this warehouse in two minutes."
Donato’s eyes went wide with sheer panic. "What?! You gave away the docks?!"
"I don't need blood-stained docks to rule this city, Donato," Julian murmured, turning his wheelchair around. "I have clean assets, legal shipping corporations, and a mind that you could never beat."
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Julian looked over his shoulder at the terrified mob boss.
"Enjoy federal prison, Donato. You'll have plenty of time to contemplate how a 'crippled king' wiped your family off the map without firing a single bullet."
