Chapter 11 - The Grieving King
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The grand ballroom of the Moretti estate in the city was draped in black velvet.
Dante stood near the massive fireplace, accepting the condolences of the various syndicate bosses, politicians, and corrupt police captains who had come to pay their respects to the "late" Matteo Moretti.
Dante played the role perfectly. He looked exhausted, defeated, and broken. He wore a simple black suit, refusing the traditional extravagant displays of mourning.
The heavy mahogany doors opened, and the room fell silent.
Carmine Moretti entered. He was a man in his late sixties, impeccably dressed, with silver hair and an aura of absolute, terrifying grandfatherly warmth. He walked across the room, his arms outstretched, tears gleaming in his eyes.
"Dante, my boy," Carmine choked out, embracing his nephew tightly.
Dante forced his muscles to relax, hugging the man who had ordered his execution. "Uncle Carmine. Thank you for coming."
"I cannot believe he is gone," Carmine wept, wiping his eyes with a silk handkerchief. "First your father, and now Matteo. The Russians will pay for this, Dante. I will leverage the entire Commission to wipe them off the map."
"I appreciate that, Uncle," Dante said, keeping his voice hollow. "But my forces are depleted. The ambush in the woods took out my best men. I don't know if I can hold the city."
Carmine’s eyes flashed with a microscopic, triumphant gleam before he masked it with deep concern.
"You must not worry about the city right now, Dante. You must grieve," Carmine patted his shoulder patronizingly. "I will bring my men down from New York. We will secure the ports and the supply lines until you are back on your feet. The family must stay strong."
It was a blatant power grab disguised as familial support. Carmine was taking control of the empire without firing a single shot in the city.
"Thank you, Uncle," Dante murmured, bowing his head in mock submission. "I leave it in your capable hands."
As Carmine walked away to begin barking orders to the capos, taking command of Dante’s men, Lorenzo stepped up beside his boss.
May you like
"He’s taking everything, Boss," Lorenzo whispered angrily.
"Let him take it," Dante replied, picking up a glass of whiskey. "A king who sits on a stolen throne is always looking over his shoulder. We just need to wait for him to slip."
