Chapter 18 - Dinner With Wolves
Thirty-two men sat beneath crystal chandeliers in the private dining room of the Marquette Club.
No phones.
No bodyguards.
No weapons.
At least officially.
Isabella was the only woman at the table.
Several older men disliked that.
Nobody dared say so.
Stefano Bellini sat at the center beneath a portrait of Chicago’s skyline.
He looked relaxed.
Adrien knew better.
Bellini began with a speech about unity.
History.
Tradition.
Respect.
Then he placed a folder on the table.
“Unfortunately, one man has abandoned all three.”
Every eye turned toward Adrien.
Bellini distributed copies of the forged murder records.
Whispers spread.
Paolo Donati looked at Adrien with open contempt.
Frank DeLuca, representing Moretti interests, remained silent.
Bellini continued.
“Adrien has contacted federal authorities.”
That caused a stronger reaction.
One man stood.
“You brought the government into family matters?”
Adrien answered calmly.
“I brought evidence of Bellini’s corruption to prosecutors.”
The room erupted.
Bellini raised his hands.
“You see? Paranoia.”
Isabella smiled.
“No.”
Bellini looked at her.
“Excuse me?”
“Paranoia means fear without evidence.”
She opened her handbag and removed a stack of documents.
“This is evidence.”
Copies of Lorenzo’s records moved around the table.
Bank transfers.
Payments.
Photographs.
Bellini’s smile remained.
But his face lost color.
Adrien watched the other leaders reading.
One man whispered a curse.
Another stared at Bellini.
Paolo Donati did not touch the papers.
Interesting.
Bellini laughed.
“Lorenzo fabricated these.”
“Then explain the account numbers,” Isabella said.
“Fake.”
“Federal investigators confirmed four this morning.”
That was true.
Bellini’s left hand tightened around his glass.
Adrien saw it.
“Stefano,” Adrien said, “Victor Salvatore is alive.”
Bellini froze.
“He’s talking.”
Not yet fully.
But Bellini did not know that.
Adrien continued.
“Dr. Marchetti is talking.”
Another bluff.
Marchetti had requested counsel.
“Samuel Grant is alive.”
That one landed hardest.
Bellini’s mask cracked.
“Samuel Grant is a thief.”
One old family leader looked up.
“You told us Grant died twenty years ago.”
Silence.
Bellini realized his mistake.
Adrien leaned forward.
“Did I?”
Bellini stared at him.
Then Paolo Donati stood.
“This meeting is over.”
“No,” Adrien said.
Paolo reached for his jacket.
Federal agents were outside.
But Adrien needed more.
Isabella looked at Paolo.
“Your father’s name is in the file too.”
He stopped.
“Peter Donati received six hundred thousand dollars from Bellini-controlled accounts.”
Paolo’s face changed.
Carlo had claimed Bellini controlled Donati.
Now they knew why.
Their father had been financially owned.
Bellini slammed his palm on the table.
“This is Lorenzo’s revenge!”
Adrien stayed seated.
“My father is dead.”
“Because he was weak!”
The room became silent.
Adrien’s pulse changed.
Bellini had finally stopped performing.
“He thought he could crawl to federal prosecutors and wash blood off his hands.”
Isabella’s eyes sharpened.
Nobody had publicly said Lorenzo planned cooperation.
Bellini continued, anger taking control.
“He built this system beside me. Then when cancer frightened him, he decided he wanted to become respectable.”
Adrien’s recording device captured every word.
Bellini stood.
“He would have destroyed every family in this room.”
“No,” Adrien said.
“He wanted to expose you.”
Bellini pointed.
“And what happened to him?”
There.
The room felt suddenly smaller.
Adrien looked directly into his eyes.
“What happened, Stefano?”
Bellini breathed heavily.
Paolo whispered, “Stop talking.”
Bellini ignored him.
“Your father made his choice.”
“What choice?”
“To betray everything we built.”
Adrien stood now.
“So you poisoned him.”
Several men pushed away from the table.
Bellini realized what he had said.
He tried to recover.
“I said no such thing.”
“You didn’t have to.”
Adrien touched the inside of his jacket.
Bellini stared.
“Recording?”
The doors opened.
Rebecca Shaw entered with federal agents.
“Stefano Bellini, nobody move.”
Chaos erupted.
Paolo tried to run.
Agents blocked him.
Bellini remained standing.
For the first time in decades, he looked old.
Not powerful.
Not untouchable.
Just old.
Rebecca approached.
“You are being detained pending execution of federal warrants.”
Bellini stared at Adrien.
“You think this ends me?”
Adrien looked around the table.
Men who once feared Bellini would not meet his eyes.
“I think you ended yourself.”
Bellini smiled strangely.
“No.”
He leaned closer.
“You forgot the ninety million.”
Adrien’s expression changed.
Bellini whispered.
“If I go down, Varga collects from your family.”
Adrien felt the trap.
Bellini had pledged more than the reserve account.
He had pledged Moretti assets.
Federal agents escorted him away.
Isabella touched Adrien’s arm.
“What did he mean?”
Adrien looked toward the empty chair.
He suddenly understood why Varga had been so helpful.
The European creditor had not come merely to recover Bellini’s debt.
He believed the Moretti family had guaranteed it.
The criminal war might be ending.
May you like
A financial war was beginning.
And this one could take everything without firing a single shot.
