Maribel violently tugs the decorative silver chain fastened loosely around Estelle’s collar. Estelle is pulled from the banquet chair and falls onto both knees.

Word Count: ~1,500 words

Maribel quickly recovered her composure, her eyes narrowing into slits as she slammed the golden gavel down.

“How dare you!” Maribel shrieked, standing up from her chair. “You burst into a sacred council meeting looking like a common street thug, hurling baseless accusations at your own aunt! I am the widow of your father’s brother!”

“And you are the woman who ordered a hit on Julian Vance’s cabin four hours ago,” Daphne spoke up, stepping forward beside Leandro. She opened the black leather ledger, laying it flat on the center of the mahogany council table for all thirty members to see.

The council members leaned in, whispering frantically as they recognized the notarized handwriting of the family’s legendary chief accountant.

“That book was burned!” Maribel gasped before she could stop herself.

“You burned the master copy in your fireplace, Maribel,” Daphne said coldly. “You didn't know Julian kept a duplicate notarized ledger in his private vault. A ledger that details every single dollar your late husband embezzled from the Moretti estate between 2010 and 2018.”

Don Carmine reached out, pulling the ledger toward him. He put on his reading glasses, scanning the notarized pages with growing shock and fury.

“Ten million dollars,” Carmine read aloud, his voice trembling with anger. “Transferred through shell corporations in Panama under Maribel’s maiden name... used to buy illegal weapons shipments for the North Docks faction.”

Carmine looked up from the book, his eyes burning with outrage as he stared at Maribel. “You didn't just steal from the family, Maribel. You funded a coup against Don Leandro’s father!”

The entire room erupted into furious shouts! The neutral council members stood up from their seats, pointing fingers at Maribel and her three lieutenants.

“It’s a forgery!” Maribel screamed, her voice shrill and desperate as she backed away from the table. “Leandro paid Julian Vance to forge those entries! You can’t trust a bitter old man living in the woods!”

“Then perhaps you’ll trust this,” Leandro said smoothly.

He pulled a small digital audio recorder from his pocket, setting it on the table and pressing play.

Maribel’s own voice echoed clearly through the room’s speakers—a crystal-clear recording taken from the security feed outside Estelle’s bedchamber the previous evening:

“Make sure the dosage in her milk is enough to keep her unconscious for twenty-four hours,” Maribel’s recorded voice whispered. “If Estelle wakes up before the council vote, the whole plan falls apart.”

The chamber went dead silent once again.

Maribel froze, her eyes wide with terror as she realized her own security lieutenants had been wearing body wires provided by Marco.

“You poisoned the matriarch,” Don Carmine said softly, his voice shaking with absolute disgust. “You laid hands on Lady Estelle in her own home.”

Under the laws of the Moretti Charter, financial embezzlement was punishable by exile. But laying poison on the matriarch of the bloodline was punishable by death.

The three North Docks lieutenants who had backed Maribel immediately took three steps backward, raising their hands in total surrender, completely abandoning her.

“We knew nothing about poison, Don Leandro!” one lieutenant stammered frantically. “We were only told about the financial vote! We swear on our blood!”

“Insolent fools!” Maribel screamed at her lieutenants, her mask of nobility completely shattered, revealing the hysterical monster underneath. “I built this family! I gave fifteen years of my life to this house! You owe me that throne!”

Leandro walked slowly around the mahogany table until he was standing directly in front of her. He reached out, his long fingers casually picking up the golden gavel resting on the block.

He tossed the gavel aside—it clattered uselessly onto the marble floor.

“The chair was never yours, Maribel,” Leandro said, his deep voice carrying the finality of a judgment from above. “And now, neither is your freedom.”

He gestured to Marco. “Take her to the lower holding vaults. Strip her faction of all titles, assets, and voting seats. The Moretti family is officially cleansed.”

As Marco and four armed sentries grabbed Maribel by the arms, dragging her screaming and cursing out of the Council Chamber, the remaining twenty-nine council members stood up from their seats.

In unison, they turned toward Leandro, bowing their heads in complete, absolute submission.

“Hail Don Leandro!” Don Carmine declared, his voice echoing across the grand hall. “True Don of the Moretti empire!”