Chapter 8 - The Shadow of the Family
The chapel at St. Jude’s on the South Side was ancient, its high stained-glass windows throwing deep blue and red light across the polished wooden pews.
Old Dominic Cavalari sat near the front altar, a silver-headed cane resting between his knees. He was sixty-eight, frail in appearance, wearing a charcoal wool suit that looked slightly too large for his shrinking frame.
The heavy oak doors at the back of the chapel opened and closed with a dull thud.
Footsteps echoed up the aisle. Two sets of footsteps.
Dominic didn't turn around. “You brought a stranger into a holy place, Dante.”
Dante stopped three pews behind the old man. Mara stood beside him, her coat buttoned tight, her gaze scanning the shadow-filled corners of the church.
“You sold me out to Vance, Uncle,” Dante said, his voice quiet, carrying an edge sharper than a razor.
Dominic let out a long, wheezing sigh. He turned his head slowly, looking at Dante with tired, milky eyes. “I didn't sell you out to Vance. Vance was an idiot. A blunt instrument.”
“You gave him my biometrics. You gave him access to the ledgers.”
“Because you forgot what we are!” Dominic snapped, his old voice suddenly ringing with power that filled the empty chapel. “Look at you! You wear Italian suits, you sit on boards, you donate millions to hospitals! You think you’re a businessman! You think the world respects you because you have an office in a glass tower!”
Dominic stood up, leaning heavily on his cane, facing his nephew.
“The world respects us because we are feared, Dante! Your father understood that! When someone crossed us, we didn't file a lawsuit or use signal intelligence. We burned their house down! You’ve made us soft. You’ve turned the Cavalari name into an investment portfolio!”
“I built an empire that doesn't require my men to go to prison every five years!” Dante yelled back, taking a step down the aisle. “I made us legitimate!”
“Legitimate?” Dominic laughed bitterly. “There is no legitimate for people like us! Vance offered to return the family to its roots. Real control. Real power. All he asked for was the old ledgers to destroy the paper trail that bound us to the city officials.”
“Vance was going to kill me, Dominic,” Dante said softly.
Dominic paused. For a second, a flicker of regret passed over his withered face. “He promised you would be taken care of. Exiled. Set up in Europe with enough money to live comfortably.”
“You believed him?” Mara spoke up for the first time, her voice cool and cutting through the emotional storm in the chapel. “Vance had a kill order attached to the automated data script. The moment the server dump was finished, a team was instructed to eliminate everyone at the Lake Forest estate—including you, Mr. Cavalari.”
Dominic turned his gaze to Mara, his brow furrowing. “Who is this girl?”
“She’s the reason I’m still alive,” Dante said. He pulled a heavy brass key from his pocket and threw it onto the pew beside his uncle. “That’s the key to the estate in Tuscany. You’re taking the 2:00 PM flight to Rome today. You will never set foot in Chicago again.”
Dominic’s jaw trembled. “You’re exiling your own blood?”
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“I’m letting you live,” Dante said, his voice dropping into a register of finality that left no room for negotiation. “That is more than you gave me.”
Dante turned to leave. Mara lingered for a fraction of a second, her gray-green eyes resting on the old man, who looked suddenly small and defeated in the empty church.
