Chapter 5 - THE FAMILY DINNER
The following evening at 8:00 p.m., the grand estate of Carmine Moretti in Long Island was ablaze with lights.
It was the monthly meeting of the Moretti Family Capos. Twenty high-ranking mob bosses, caporegimes, and corrupt politicians sat around a massive dark oak dining table, drinking vintage wine and eating prime rib.
At the head of the table sat Don Carmine Moretti—a fat, arrogant man in his late sixties, wearing an Italian silk suit and a heavy gold signet ring on his pinky finger.
"To loyalty!" Carmine shouted, raising his wineglass high. "To the prosperity of the Moretti name!"
"To loyalty!" the men shouted back, clinking their glasses.
BOOM!
The heavy oak double doors of the dining hall were blasted off their hinges by a breacher charge!
Dust, wood splinters, and smoke billowed into the room as twenty tactical guards clad in black kevlar armor poured through the doors, aiming automatic rifles at every capo at the table!
"WHAT IS THE MEANING OF THIS?!" Carmine roared, slamming his hands on the table and standing up! "WHO DARES—"
The smoke parted.
Vincent Moretti stepped into the dining room.
He was dressed in a bespoke black three-piece suit, his hands tucked casually into his trouser pockets. Behind him walked Marco, holding a leather briefcase.
The room went dead silent. The capos lowered their hands slowly, terrified by the icy, ruthless aura radiating from the young Don.
"Sit down, Carmine," Vincent said, his voice terrifyingly calm.
Carmine’s face flushed red with anger. "Vincent! What is this madness?! You attack my home during a family dinner?!"
"I'm not attacking a family dinner, Uncle," Vincent replied smoothly, pulling out a chair at the far end of the table and sitting down. "I'm executing a traitor."
Carmine laughed nervously, looking around at the other capos for support. "A traitor? Who are you talking about?"
Vincent nodded to Marco.
Marco opened the leather briefcase and tipped it over the dining table.
Dozens of high-resolution crime scene photographs spilled across the polished oak floor—photographs of the dead gunmen at Warehouse 4, bank statements showing offshore accounts linked to human trafficking, and autopsy reports from twelve years ago proving Julian was shot in the chest before the fire was started.
The capos leaned over, looking at the evidence with wide, horrified eyes.
"Julian didn't die in an accident," Vincent announced to the room, his voice echoing off the chandelier. "Carmine murdered him. And last night, Carmine sent six hitmen to execute Julian's widow and his eight-year-old daughter."
Gasping and angry murmurs broke out among the capos!
"Killing a woman and a child?!" one elderly capo spat in disgust, looking at Carmine. "That violates the fundamental code of the Commission!"
"He's lying!" Carmine screamed, pulling a chrome revolver from his waistband! "He's making it up to steal my territory!"
BANG!
Vincent pulled his weapon and fired before Carmine could even raise his sightline!
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The bullet tore straight through Carmine's wrist, knocking the revolver out of his hand! Carmine shrieked in agony, falling back into his leather armchair while clutching his bleeding hand!
"The Commission has already reviewed the flash drive, Carmine," Vincent said, standing up and walking down the length of the table toward his bleeding uncle. "They stripped you of your rank twenty minutes ago."
