Chapter 6 - The Council Table
The main dining room of the Romano mansion was built for display.
A fifty-foot mahogany table spanned the length of the room beneath three crystal chandeliers. High stained-glass windows cast colorful, muted light across the paneled walls, where portraits of long-dead Romano patriarchs looked down on the living.
By 10:45 AM, fourteen men sat around the long table.
At the head sat Matteo Romano. He sat relaxed in his high-backed leather chair, his hands clasped loosely over his waist, his dark eyes calmly scanning the faces of the men gathered before him.
To his right sat Adrian.
Adrian opened a leather portfolio, spreading out several maps and legal documents with practiced efficiency.
"Thank you all for coming on short notice," Adrian began, his voice clear, confident, and persuasive. "As many of you know, our shipping operations along the river have suffered three minor security breaches over the past month. My intelligence teams have confirmed that the Moretti family in New York is actively planning a full-scale takeover of our logistics hubs."
The capos around the table muttered among themselves, exchanging concerned glances.
"What do you propose, Adrian?" one senior member asked.
"I propose an immediate liquidation of our northern docks," Adrian said firmly, looking around the table with an authoritative gaze. "We pull our primary distribution centers twenty miles west into Dupage County. We set up a new perimeter. It will cost us five million in immediate logistics, but it will keep our primary assets completely safe from New York's wiretaps and hits."
Several men nodded slowly, appearing persuaded by the smooth argument.
Matteo remained completely silent. He sat back in his chair, watching his cousin with a calm, almost curious expression.
"Matteo?" Adrian asked, turning toward him with an easy, confident smile. "Do you agree with the assessment?"
Matteo took a slow breath. He reached into his inner jacket pocket, pulled out a sleek silver pen, and set it down on the shiny mahogany table between them.
"It is a very well-crafted plan, Adrian," Matteo said softly. His voice carried clearly across the vast room, cutting through the low murmurs instantly.
"Thank you, cousin," Adrian smiled.
"There is only one detail you left out," Matteo added, his voice dropping an octave into a low, terrifying chill.
Adrian’s smile faltered slightly. "And what is that?"
"The Dupage County warehouse complex you want us to move to," Matteo said, taking the silver pen and slowly spinning it on the wood. "It was purchased three weeks ago through a dummy corporation registered in Panama. A corporation owned ninety percent by Vincent Moretti. In New York."
The room went dead, suffocatingly quiet.
The capos froze in their seats. Every single pair of eyes shifted instantly from Matteo to Adrian.
Adrian’s face drained of color so fast it was as if he had been struck. His fingers twitched against the leather portfolio. "Matteo... I don't know what you're talking about. The real estate broker confirmed—"
"The real estate broker was found floating in the river two days ago, Adrian," Matteo interrupted quietly.
Matteo leaned forward, resting his forearms on the heavy mahogany table. His dark eyes locked onto his cousin’s pale, sweat-sheened face with terrifying intensity.
"You sold us," Matteo whispered. "For twenty million dollars and a thirty percent cut of our shipping logistics, you agreed to steer our entire leadership into an ambush in Dupage County next Tuesday."
"That's a lie!" Adrian shouted, pushing his chair back violently as he stood up. "This is insane! Who gave you this garbage information?"
Matteo didn't blink. "You did."
Matteo reached down, pressed a small remote hidden beneath the table, and a high-definition speaker hidden in the chandelier burst into life.
"The contract is signed, Vincent," Adrian’s distinct voice echoed through the dining room with absolute clarity. "Matteo is completely oblivious. He’s distracted by that stupid maid who got her leg bruised. Move the hit squad to Dupage by Monday night. Once Matteo is dead, the senior capos will fall in line within forty-eight hours."
The recording clicked off.
Silence slammed back into the room like a physical blow.
Three senior capos stood up from their chairs instantly, their hands reaching for their shoulder holsters, their faces twisted in absolute fury.
"You rat bastard!" Frank roared.
Adrian’s six guards near the wall reached for their weapons, but before their fingers could touch leather, the heavy side doors of the dining room burst open.
A dozen of Matteo’s heavily armed tactical guards poured into the room, their submachine guns raised, their red laser sights instantly painting dark spots across the chests of Adrian's men.
"Drop them," Marcus commanded from the doorway.
Adrian’s guards looked at the red lasers dancing across their jackets, realized they were completely outmatched, and slowly raised their hands, letting their sidearms fall to the carpet with heavy thuds.
Adrian stood frozen at the head of the table, sweating profusely, his chest heaving as he looked around the room. Every friend, every ally, every family member he had known his entire life was looking at him with pure, unadulterated hatred.
He looked at Matteo.
Matteo slowly stood up from his chair. He didn't look angry. He looked disappointed—the deep, cold disappointment of a man who had cut away his own flesh to purge a infection.
"Take them to the cellar," Matteo ordered quietly.
May you like
"Matteo! Please!" Adrian screamed as two large guards grabbed his arms, dragging him backward across the floor. "We're family! We have the same blood! My father died for your father! Matteo!"
Matteo turned his back on his cousin, refusing to offer another word as Adrian's desperate screams echoed down the stone corridor until the heavy steel doors swung shut, cutting off the noise entirely.
