Chapter 9 - The King's Decree
By six o'clock the next morning, the fog had cleared, leaving a crisp, brilliant sunrise reflecting off the blue waters of the Atlantic.
Inside the private harbor-front boardroom in downtown Boston, seven men sat around a massive mahogany table. These were the men who controlled the docks, the unions, the casinos, and the politicians of the northeast.
At the head of the table sat Gabriel Castellan.
He wore a fresh three-piece pinstripe suit, his hair neatly combed, his hands resting flat on the table.
To his right, Donato Moretti—an elderly, obese man with greasy grey hair—sat surrounded by two nervous bodyguards, his face flushed with deep rage.
"This is an outrage!" Donato slammed his fleshy fist onto the table. "Castellan wiped out half my best enforcers last night! He violated the 1998 accord! The Commission must punish him!"
The other syndicate bosses remained dead silent, looking at Gabriel.
Gabriel didn't raise his voice. He leaned forward slightly, his grey eyes piercing straight through Donato.
"Last night," Gabriel said softly, "Donato sent a strike team into my private residence. He hired a disgraced former employee to hack my internal security grid."
A quiet gasp ran around the table. Hacking a boss's private home was an unpardonable sin under syndicate law.
"That's a lie!" Donato spat, though sweat was breaking out on his forehead. "It was a commercial port dispute!"
Gabriel gestured to Dante, who tossed a thick folder of bank transfers and intercepted audio recordings onto the center of the table.
"Donato paid two hundred thousand dollars to hit my house," Gabriel said. "He threatened my family."
He used the word family deliberately. In their world, that word carried the weight of holy scripture.
"The Moretti territory in North End is hereby dissolved," Gabriel declared, standing up slowly. "His docks go to the syndicate council. His construction lines go to my estate. And Donato..."
Gabriel looked at the terrified old man.
"...has one hour to get on a plane to Sicily. If his feet are still on American soil at seven-fifteen A.M., Dante will feed him to the crabs off Castle Island."
None of the other bosses said a word. None of them moved to defend Donato. They knew the law of the streets, and they knew Gabriel Castellan was now the undisputed king of the Eastern Seaboard.
Donato collapsed back into his chair, defeated, trembling, and ruined.
Gabriel didn't wait to watch him leave. He adjusted his jacket, walked out of the boardroom, and stepped into his waiting SUV.
"Home, boss?" Dante asked from the driver's seat.
Gabriel looked out the window at the morning sun hitting the ocean.
"Home," Gabriel said.
Twenty minutes later, Gabriel walked through the front doors of his cliffside estate.
The marks of the night's battle had already been erased by his security team. The air was fresh, smelling of the sea breeze blowing through the opened patio doors.
He walked up the marble stairs, past his office, and into the west wing.
He opened the door to the master suite.
Vera was sitting by the large bay window, wrapped in his soft cashmere robe, holding a steaming mug of black coffee in her hands. The morning light washed over her soft features, making her look radiant, peaceful, and entirely at home.
She turned as he entered, a soft, genuine smile spreading across her face.
"Good morning, Mr. Castellan," she murmured teasingly.
Gabriel walked across the room, unbuttoning his suit jacket, tossing it onto a chair. He knelt beside her chair, resting his hands on her knees, looking up into her warm brown eyes.
"You're still drinking black coffee," Gabriel observed quietly.
"I like it black," Vera smiled, setting the mug down on the side table.
Gabriel reached out, taking her hands in his, kissing her fingers one by one.
"You're not cleaning my house anymore, Vera," Gabriel said firmly, his eyes dead serious.
Vera raised an eyebrow. "Oh really? And who's going to scrub the bleach lines on the east wing floor?"
"I'll hire twenty maids," Gabriel said. "You are never holding a mop in this house again."
"And what will I be doing?" she asked softly, leaning down toward him.
May you like
Gabriel stood up, pulling her out of the chair and into his arms, holding her tight against his heart.
"You're going to rule this city with me," Gabriel whispered against her lips. "If you'll have me."
