Chapter 13 - The Reckoning of the Five Families
Forty-eight hours later, the grand council of the New England Commission convened in a private, soundproof boardroom on the fortieth floor of the State Street Financial Center.
Dominic sat at the head of the table. He was pristine once more in a dark navy three-piece suit, his hands resting on the polished mahogany. Marco, his arm in a sling, stood behind him alongside four senior captains.
Across from Dominic sat the heads of the four remaining families: elderly, hardened men who had watched the Romano civil war unfold from the safety of their estates.
On the center of the table lay a leather binder containing forensic reports, bank wire transfers linking Lorenzo to illicit cartel shipments, and Richard’s signed sworn confession detailing the assassination attempt at the restaurant.
"Lorenzo acted outside the council's laws," Don Moretti, the seventy-two-year-old patriarch from the North End, stated gravelly. "He brought poison into a public establishment. He brought the federal authorities onto our docks. He violated every rule of our ancestors."
"Lorenzo is dead," Dominic said evenly. "His body was pulled from the harbor yesterday morning by the Coast Guard. His holdings, his transit contracts, and his security personnel have been absorbed into my direct command."
Dominic leaned forward, his gaze sweeping over the four old men with the weight of an executioner's blade.
"I am restructuring the syndicate," Dominic announced.
The elders exchanged uneasy glances.
"Restructuring?" Moretti frowned. "In what way?"
"We are closing down the narcotics distribution networks on the south wharves. We are transitioning our capital into legitimate maritime shipping, commercial real estate, and municipal development. The extortion rackets end this month."
"Dominic," another don protested, slamming his ring-adorned hand on the table. "You cannot unilaterally alter the traditions of fifty years!"
Dominic stood up. The sheer physical presence of the man commanded instant silence.
"I can, and I will," Dominic said, his voice ringing with absolute finality. "Because I hold eighty percent of the port authorities in my palm. Because the district attorney is filing charges against anyone tied to Lorenzo’s smuggling rings, and my legal team is holding the evidence. You will adapt to a clean, legitimate enterprise, or you will find yourselves sharing a cell block with Richard."
He didn't wait for a vote. He didn't ask for permission.
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Dominic Romano had not just survived the coup—he had used it to forge an entirely new empire, washing away the blood of his father's past with the power of his own will.
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