Chapter 7 - THE CLEANUP OF NEW YORK
The strike against the Chicago organization was swift, brutal, and absolute.
Before the sun rose over the East River, Vincent’s forces hit four of Gallow’s primary operations simultaneously across Manhattan and Brooklyn. Carmine Gallow was cornered in his penthouse suite, his guards disarmed, his empire dismantled in the span of three hours.
Vincent did not kill Carmine himself. He forced Carmine to sign over all East Coast shipping rights and territorial claims, stripping him of his wealth and power before turning him over to federal authorities with a mountain of unsealable evidence provided by Vincent’s legal team.
Beatrice Gallow was left with nothing—her diamonds seized, her husband facing a life sentence in a federal penitentiary, and her reputation in high society destroyed forever.
By noon the following day, the war was over.
The news of the Russo family’s absolute victory spread through the underworld like wildfire. No one questioned Vincent’s authority again. The thin, fragile peace had been replaced by an iron rule that no syndicate dared to challenge.
Four days later, the rain finally cleared over New York, replaced by a brilliant, crisp autumn sun that turned the trees around the Russo estate into shades of gold and crimson.
Vincent stood on the back terrace, watching the lawn.
Camila sat in a wrought-iron garden chair beneath a large oak tree, wearing a bright yellow sweater. Nora stood beside her, holding a sketchpad, showing Camila drawings she had made of the garden flowers.
Camila was laughing, pointing at a red bird perched on a high branch.
Paulie walked out onto the terrace, holding a thick stack of reports.
“The docks are fully operational again, Boss,” Paulie said, setting the papers on the outdoor table. “The Gallow territory has been completely integrated into our distribution network. Everything is secure.”
Vincent didn't look at the reports. His eyes remained fixed on Nora’s smile.
“Good work, Paulie,” Vincent said quietly.
Paulie hesitated, looking down at the lawn, then looking at his boss. He had served the Russo family for twenty years, and he had never seen Vincent look at anyone the way he looked at the former maid.
“She’s a good girl, Vincent,” Paulie offered softly, dropping the formal 'Boss' for a brief moment of genuine respect. “She saved your mother twice. She took a bullet’s worth of glass for this house.”
“I know,” Vincent said.
“What are you going to do about her?” Paulie asked. “The capos... some of them are talking. They wonder why the boss is spending his evenings sitting in the east wing with a girl from Queens.”
Vincent turned his head slowly, his dark eyes locking onto Paulie with a sharp, lethal warning.
“Tell the capos,” Vincent said, his voice quiet and iron-hard, “that if anyone has a problem with Nora Hayes, they can discuss it directly with me in the basement.”
Paulie bowed his head quickly. “Understood, Boss.”
Vincent walked down the stone steps of the terrace, his polished boots making no sound on the soft green grass as he approached the two women beneath the oak tree.
Camila saw him first. “Vincent! Look! Nora drew a bird for me!”
Vincent smiled, stepping up behind Camila’s chair and resting a gentle hand on his mother’s shoulder. “It’s beautiful, Ma.”
He looked across at Nora. She wore her green sweater, her dark braid resting over her shoulder, the small white bandage on her temple almost completely hidden by her dark hair.
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“Can I speak to you for a moment, Nora?” Vincent asked softly.
Nora set her pencil down on the sketchpad. “Of course.”
