Chapter 19 - The New York Call
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“Take us to the airfield,” Evelyn instructed, her voice calm and authoritative. “I don't want to wait for the East Coast families to hear about tonight from second-hand whispers. I want to tell them myself.”
Gabriel’s eyebrows raised in genuine amusement. He reached forward and tapped the glass partition.
“Change of plans, Marcus. Take us to O'Hare. Prep the Gulfstream for a flight to Teterboro,” Gabriel ordered the driver.
The heavy SUV smoothly changed lanes, merging onto the expressway heading out of the city.
“You want to fly to New York tonight?” Gabriel asked, turning back to Evelyn. “That’s a bold move. Showing up in their territory hours after a coup.”
“It’s not a coup, Gabriel. It’s a restoration,” Evelyn corrected him. “And if we wait until morning, they will have time to fortify their positions. They will rally their men and prepare for a defensive war. If we land in New York before sunrise, we catch them while they are still trying to verify the rumors from Chicago.”
“Shock and awe,” Gabriel murmured approvingly. “I like it. But who do we call first? The Russians or the Italians?”
Evelyn pulled the encrypted satellite phone from her clutch purse. She stared at the keypad for a moment, recalling a number her father had made her memorize when she was sixteen years old. A number belonging to the oldest Don in Brooklyn, a man who had sworn blood loyalty to the Moretti family before the national syndicate fractured.
“We call the Italians,” Evelyn said, her fingers moving rapidly across the keys. “They value tradition. If they know the Moretti bloodline is active again, they might turn on the Russians for us, saving us half the capital.”
The phone rang. It was 11:45 PM. The underworld never slept, but a direct line call at this hour meant an emergency.
“Speak,” a harsh, heavily accented voice answered on the other end.
“Don Salieri,” Evelyn said, her voice dropping into a formal, commanding tone. “This is Evelyn Moretti. I am currently in the air, heading to New York. We need to arrange a meeting before sunrise.”
There was a long, stunned silence on the line. The sound of a glass breaking in the background echoed through the speaker.
“Evelyn… Moretti?” the old Don whispered, his voice trembling with a mixture of reverence and absolute terror. “The daughter of the Boss of Bosses?”
“Yes,” Evelyn confirmed.
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“They said you were hidden. Married to a civilian in the Midwest.”
“The civilian is bankrupt, and the hiding is over, Don Salieri,” Evelyn stated coldly. “I am claiming the Eastern seaboard. You can either stand beside me, or you can stand in my way. Choose carefully before my plane lands.”
