Chapter 5 - The Sunrise Reckoning
At precisely 6:50 AM, the first pale rays of October dawn broke over the rain-slicked asphalt of Manhattan.
The glass doors of the Obsidian were unlocked, but the shades remained drawn, blocking the curious eyes of morning commuters. Inside, the grand dining room was bathed in soft chandeliers, with six of Lorenzo’s senior enforcers stationed discreetly along the mezzanine balconies.
At the center table sat Sal Lombardi.
At sixty-two, Sal was thick-necked, heavy-set, and carried himself with the brutish arrogance of an old-school street boss. He wore an expensive camel-hair coat, his gold pinky ring clicking nervously against his water glass as he watched Lorenzo approach.
Beside Sal sat Frankie Lombardi.
Frankie was twenty-six, but this morning he looked twelve. His designer leather jacket was rumpled, his hair unwashed, and a fresh purple contusion blossomed under his right eye where Dante’s men had intercepted him at a toll plaza in Fort Lee three hours earlier.
Lorenzo pulled out a heavy oak chair opposite the two men and sat down without a word.
Dante stepped forward, placing a velvet-lined jewelry box and a thick stack of printed bank statements on the table between them.
“Lorenzo,” Sal began, forcing a gravelly laugh that held no humor. “This is a misunderstanding between kids. Frankie got over his head with some sports debt, heard the Hayes kid had family working the docks, and thought he could make a quick play. It won’t happen again.”
Lorenzo didn’t look at Sal. He looked directly at Frankie.
The young man shrank back against the leather seat, unable to hold the Don’s chilling, unblinking gaze.
“Yesterday evening,” Lorenzo said, his baritone slicing through the quiet room like a diamond blade, “you grabbed a woman by the wrist in my establishment.”
Frankie swallowed hard, sweat glistening on his upper lip. “I… I was just talking to her, Don Moretti. I swear I didn’t hurt her.”
“You threatened to put her in a van,” Lorenzo continued, his voice dropping into a deadly, rhythmic cadence. “You told her brother that she would work off his debt on her back.”
Sal Lombardi’s face darkened with genuine anger. He turned and struck his nephew across the back of the head with an open palm.
“You stupid piece of garbage!” Sal snarled at Frankie. “I told you never to bring that street filth into Moretti’s houses!”
“Quiet, Sal,” Lorenzo commanded softly.
Sal clamped his mouth shut instantly, breathing heavily through his nose.
Lorenzo reached forward, opening the velvet box. Inside lay an exquisite diamond and sapphire necklace—the exact collateral Frankie had planned to use to buy passage out of the country.
“The debt on the Hayes boy is officially canceled,” Lorenzo announced, his eyes never leaving Frankie’s pale face. “Furthermore, the Lombardi family will transfer the commercial lease on the 14th Street parking garage to a blind trust under my supervision by noon.”
Sal gasped. “That garage does two hundred thousand a year, Lorenzo! That’s half of Frankie’s income!”
“Then Frankie can learn how to park cars himself,” Lorenzo replied with icy finality.
He leaned forward across the table, resting his forearms on the wood, his eyes boring into Frankie’s soul.
“If you ever look in Harper Hayes’s direction again,” Lorenzo whispered, “if you ever speak her name, or if your shadow so much as crosses the street where she walks, I will not call your uncle. I will dismantle you piece by piece and feed you to the crabs in the Hudson River. Do you understand me, boy?”
Frankie nodded frantically, tears of absolute terror spilling down his cheeks. “Yes, sir! Yes, Don Moretti! I swear on my mother’s life!”
May you like
Lorenzo stood up, buttoning his tailored jacket with effortless grace.
“Get out of my restaurant,” he said.
