Chicago’s Most Feared Mafia Don Thought His Pregnant Ex-Wife Was Hiding His Child, but the Man Who Kept Them Apart Had Been Standing Beside Him All Along

Two days later, while Jasmine continued to gain strength in the NICU, Vincent settled the final debts of his past.

He did not call a meeting at his grand estate or in a dark alley. He summoned the heads of the five Chicago families to a private dining room at the Drake Hotel—public, neutral territory.

Miles stood behind Vincent as the bosses took their seats around the long mahogany table.

Among them was Sal Moretti, the elderly Don who had paid Grant Holloway to destroy Vincent’s marriage.

“Vincent,” Sal said, offering a patronizing smile. “We heard your former wife had a premature baby. Congratulations. Is this why you called us away from our business?”

Vincent didn't touch his glass of wine. He laid a heavy manila envelope on the center of the table.

“Inside that envelope,” Vincent said, his voice flat and terrifyingly calm, “are the full financial records of Grant Holloway’s offshore accounts. It includes wire transfers from the Moretti family operations into a Cayman Islands bank.”

Sal’s smile froze.

“You tried to use my family to start a war, Sal,” Vincent continued, leaning forward. “You thought if you broke my home, you could break my hold on this city.”

“Vincent, listen to me—” Sal started, reaching for his coat.

“Sit down,” Vincent commanded. The authority in his voice was so absolute that Sal froze mid-movement.

“As of six o'clock this morning,” Vincent announced, “I have transferred sixty percent of my commercial holdings into a blind family trust for my daughter. I am stepping down as Don of the Caruso organization.”

The room erupted into shocked whispers.

“However,” Vincent added, his eyes locking onto Sal Moretti with lethal intensity, “before I leave, I have instructed Miles to hand over every piece of evidence regarding the Moretti family’s illegal port operations to the federal prosecutor’s office.”

Sal went pale. “You’re turning informant?”

“I’m protecting my family,” Vincent corrected smoothly. “You have twenty-four hours to leave Illinois, Sal. If you or any of your men are seen in Chicago after tomorrow morning, I won't use lawyers to deal with you.”