Chapter 5 - The Queens Summit
The summit took place inside a converted industrial warehouse on the outskirts of Queens—a traditional neutral site fortified by neutral security teams from the Genovese family. Rain poured steadily from the night sky, drumming a relentless rhythm against the corrugated tin roof.
Inside, three massive rectangular tables were arranged in a U-shape under harsh industrial floodlights. At the head table sat the elderly bosses of the Five Families, their faces hardened by decades of underworld rule.
To the left sat Don Carmine Romano, flanked by six armed guards, his expression thunderous. Beside him sat Valentina, looking sharp and cold in a tailored white suit, her eyes fixed on the entrance.
To the right sat Lorenzo Moretti, Alessandro’s cousin. Lorenzo was a broad-shouldered man in his late forties with a well-trimmed beard and slicked-back hair. He was casually sipping mineral water, radiating the calm confidence of a man who believed his trap was about to spring shut.
The heavy steel doors rolled open.
Alessandro walked into the warehouse alone. He wore a dark suit, his long coat unbuttoned, his hands casually resting in his pockets. He carried no briefcase, no guards, no weapons in sight—a display of absolute defiance that caused a low murmur to ripple through the room.
"Alessandro," Don Carmine boomed, leaning forward on his walking stick. "You enter the council alone? Bold, considering the offense you have committed against my house."
"I enter alone because I need no guards to state facts before this council, Carmine," Alessandro said smoothly, stopping in the center of the floor, ten paces from the tables.
Lorenzo sneered, leaning back in his chair. "You mean you have no guards left who trust your leadership, cousin. You let your own butler poison your fiancée. You kept a hidden child in your maid's quarters. You’ve brought shame upon the Moretti name."
"Is that what you told the commission when you asked them to vote for my removal tonight, Lorenzo?" Alessandro asked calmly, turning his gaze toward his cousin.
Lorenzo’s smile flickered. "The commission evaluates results, Alessandro. Under your rule, we are facing war with the Romanos. You are unfit."
"The commission evaluates loyalty and profit, Lorenzo," Alessandro countered, pulling a small silver flash drive from his pocket and tossing it onto the center table in front of the elder bosses. "On that drive, you will find complete forensic banking files compiled by my late wife, Isabella Vance."
The word wife caused Carmine Romano’s eyes to widen slightly.
"Isabella spent months documenting the systematic theft of forty million dollars from the Moretti logistics accounts between 2019 and 2021," Alessandro continued, his voice echoing clearly across the cavernous room. "The money was funneled through shell companies in Zurich before being transferred directly into private accounts owned by Lorenzo Moretti and... Don Carmine Romano."
Carmine slammed his walking stick against the floor, standing up abruptly. "Lies! This is a desperate ploy by a failing Don!"
"Check the drive, Don Lucchesi," Alessandro said softly, looking at the elderly boss sitting at the head of the center table.
Don Lucchesi, a silver-haired man of eighty years whose word was absolute law in the underworld, gestured to his technical advisor. The advisor plugged the drive into a laptop, scanning the files. Within two minutes, the advisor leaned over and whispered into Lucchesi’s ear, showing him the verified banking stamps from Switzerland.
Lucchesi’s old eyes slowly turned cold as he looked at Carmine, then at Lorenzo.
"The signatures are verified," Lucchesi announced, his voice dry as ashes. "The funds were stolen from shared commission pools. Lorenzo Moretti and Carmine Romano have been skimming from the other four families for six years."
Lorenzo’s face turned gray. He reached instinctively toward his inner coat pocket.
BANG.
A single gunshot shattered the silence of the warehouse.
Lorenzo collapsed sideways out of his chair, a clean hole through his shoulder, his gun clattering across the concrete floor.
Marco stepped out from behind a stack of shipping crates near the upper catwalks, a silenced sniper rifle aimed directly at Lorenzo’s chest. He was not alone; twenty of Alessandro’s most elite tactical security team members materialized from the shadows along the perimeter, their red laser sights dotting the chests of Carmine Romano’s guards.
Alessandro walked slowly over to where Lorenzo lay bleeding on the floor. He knelt beside his cousin, pulling the small wooden box from his own pocket—the box Isabella had carved before her death.
"Isabella died alone in a small clinic in upstate New York because of you, Lorenzo," Alessandro whispered, his voice vibrating with terrifying intensity. "She spent her last days keeping my daughter safe from your greed."
"Alessandro... please..." Lorenzo gasped, clutching his bleeding shoulder. "We’re blood..."
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"Blood does not excuse treason," Alessandro said softly. He looked up at Don Lucchesi and the commission elders. "The Moretti family will repay every cent stolen from the commission accounts within thirty days. As for Lorenzo and Don Carmine... their leadership ends tonight."
Don Lucchesi bowed his head slowly. "The commission sanctions your claim, Don Moretti. Clean your house."
