Chapter 17 - THE FALL OF THE KING|
Massive financial ledgers, wiretap recordings, and autopsies filled the thirty-foot screens in crystal-clear high definition.
My father’s handwriting, digitized and translated, displayed every bank account, every offshore shell company, and every wire transfer linking Gianni Marciano and Senator Falcone directly to the poisoning of Don Marciano twenty years ago.
"Synthetic Arsenic purchases," the screen displayed, alongside bank signatures bearing Gianni's official handwriting.
Gasps of outrage erupted from the old-school capos sitting at the front tables.
"He poisoned the Don!" an elder boss screamed, standing up and pointing a trembling finger at Gianni. "He murdered his own father!"
"It's a lie! It's a digital frame!" Gianni screamed hysterically, pulling a gold-plated revolver from his waistband.
Gianni aimed the weapon directly at my head across the stage. "Shut it off, you damn maid!"
BANG!
A single, precise gunshot cracked through the ballroom.
Gianni’s hand exploded in a cloud of red, the gold revolver spinning out of his grip onto the carpet. He dropped to his knees, screaming in agony as he clutched his ruined wrist.
Enzo lowered his smoking sidearm, stepping up onto the stage, looking down at his bleeding half-brother with cold, terrifying disgust.
"You broke the cardinal rule of the family, Gianni," Enzo whispered, his voice heard by every boss in the room. "You spilled our father's blood for Falcone's pocket money."
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Two heavy elder bosses walked up onto the stage, seizing Senator Falcone by his arms before he could reach the exit.
"The Commission will deal with the Senator," the elder boss announced grimly. "As for Gianni... he belongs to you, Enzo."
