Chapter 9 - The New Order
"My terms are very simple, Vittorio," I said, pulling a fresh, leather-bound contract from my portfolio and tossing it onto the center of the table. "You will sign the new distribution agreement right now. But under my terms."
Vittorio picked up the pen with numb fingers. "Tell me."
"First, Chicago takes forty percent of all net revenues from your shipping channels, effective immediately," I stated. "Second, your son Lorenzo is permanently removed from all executive operations and sent to manage your family's olive groves in Sicily. If he ever steps foot on North American soil again, I call the note and seize your fleet."
"Dad, you can't agree to this!" Lorenzo screamed, grabbing his father's arm. "You're handing them the keys to our empire! Tell them no!"
Vittorio turned and looked at his son with pure, unbridled fury. "You brought this on us, you arrogant fool! You insulted this woman at her own table! You broke into her home! You thought you were dealing with a trophy, and she just bought your entire life out from under you!"
With a vicious jerk, Vittorio shook his son's grip off his arm. He raised his open hand and struck Lorenzo across his uninjured cheek with a resounding CRACK that echoed across the vaulted ceiling.
"Get out of my sight," Vittorio hissed through his teeth. "Take your things, leave Chicago, and get on the first flight to Palermo. You are dead to this family until I say otherwise."
Lorenzo stood there, humiliated, blood trickling from the edge of his lip, clutching his face in front of twelve of the most powerful men in the country. He looked around the table, searching for an ally, but every single capo stared back at him with cold, stony indifference. Without another word, Lorenzo turned and fled through the heavy security doors, his footsteps fading down the marble corridor.
Vittorio turned back to the table, his breath rattling in his chest. He uncapped his gold fountain pen, opened the agreement to the final page, and signed his name with a heavy, decisive stroke.
"The interest on the Swiss loan?" Vittorio asked quietly, looking up at me.
"As long as our shipments arrive on schedule and our forty percent is paid every Friday," I said, closing my portfolio, "the foreclosure petition remains safely locked in my desk drawer. We are partners now, Vittorio. Treat us with respect, and you will stay wealthy. Cross us, and you will die in a federal prison."
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Vittorio stared at me for a long moment, then slowly bowed his head in a gesture of absolute surrender. "Understood, Mrs. Moretti."
Dante stood up from his chair, signaling the end of the summit. The tension broke like a snapping wire as the other capos rose to their feet, raising their glasses in silent, awe-struck toast—not to Dante, but to the blonde woman standing at his side.
