Chapter 5 - The Grand Hotel
The Regency Ballroom on the top floor of the Grand Hotel was a sanctuary of dark mahogany, crystal chandeliers, and heavy velvet drapes. Normally reserved for political galas and high-society weddings, tonight it had been entirely cleared out for the emergency council meeting of the Vance Syndicate.
Around a massive oval table sat twelve men—the capos, elders, and financial lieutenants who controlled the city's vast illegal networks. At the head of the table sat Kosta, an old, battle-scarred veteran with silver hair and eyes as cold as slate.
Vivien Vance sat three chairs down, looking visibly shaken, her wrists bandaged. Two of Dominic’s undercover guards stood subtly near the exit doors, ensuring she followed the script.
"This is ridiculous," Kosta growled, slamming his heavy fist onto the table, making the crystal whiskey glasses ring. "You bring us out here in the middle of the night, Vivien, claiming your dead sister has risen from the grave? Arthur’s other girl died in the house explosion seven years ago!"
"She didn't die, Kosta!" Vivien spat, her voice laced with nervous strain. "She's alive. And she's married to Dominic Gallow."
A collective murmur rippled through the table. Several men shifted uncomfortably, eyeing the doors.
"If she's married to Gallow, then this is a takeover," another capo declared angrily. "Dominic Gallow is using a ghost to steal our territory! We should mobilize our soldiers and burn his estate down tonight!"
"I wouldn't advise that," a calm, melodic voice rang out from the back of the room.
The heavy double doors of the ballroom swung open.
Four of Dominic’s heaviest enforcers stepped in first, taking defensive positions along the walls. Behind them walked Dominic Gallow, wearing a tailored black suit, his expression imposing and unreadable.
But he didn't walk at the front.
He stepped aside, taking a supporting position half a pace behind the woman walking into the light.
Norah stepped into the ballroom. Her dark green silk dress swept gracefully against the marble floor. Her hair was styled immaculately, her posture regal, and her dark eyes swept over the twelve men with a terrifyingly familiar intensity.
For a long, agonizing second, absolute silence descended upon the room.
Kosta slowly rose from his chair, his jaw slackening as he stared at her face. The resemblance to Arthur Vance was uncanny—she had her father’s sharp cheekbones, his piercing, unblinking gaze, and the unmistakable air of absolute command.
"Eleanor..." Kosta whispered, his voice stripped of its previous bravado.
"It's Norah now, Kosta," she said smoothly, her voice carrying effortlessly across the large room. She walked toward the head of the table, her heels clicking rhythmically against the floor. The capos instinctively leaned back as she passed, as if intimidated by her sheer presence.
She stopped right across from Kosta, resting her hands lightly on the back of a vacant leather chair.
"Seven years ago, when my father was murdered," Norah began, her tone steady and measured, "this council fell into chaos. You lost half our shipping routes to the Italians, you let the police seize three warehouses, and you allowed my sister to run this empire into two hundred million dollars of debt."
She turned her eyes to Vivien, who flinched and looked down at the table.
"You thought I was dead," Norah continued. "You thought the Vance bloodline was reduced to a volatile girl who couldn't manage her own lieutenants. But I am standing here tonight to remind you that Arthur Vance built this syndicate on structure, discipline, and absolute loyalty."
Kosta narrowed his eyes, recovering his composure. He leaned forward, resting his heavy hands on the table. "You've been gone seven years, girl. You've been playing painter while we bled in the streets to keep this business alive. And now you walk in here on the arm of Dominic Gallow—our biggest rival—and expect us to bow to you?"
Several capos muttered in agreement, their hands drifting casually toward the holsters beneath their jackets.
Dominic subtly shifted his stance, his hand resting on his coat button, ready to draw.
Norah, however, didn't flinch. She simply reached into her velvet clutch, pulled out a small, metallic flash drive, and tossed it onto the center of the mahogany table.
"On that drive are the private offshore account ledgers of Arthur Vance," Norah announced coldly. "Four hundred million dollars in liquid capital. Along with the original land deeds to the New Jersey terminals."
The room went dead silent. Every eye at the table locked onto the tiny silver drive.
"That money belongs to the Vance Syndicate," Norah said, her eyes narrowing as she locked stares with Kosta. "And I will unlock every single cent of it the moment this council formally recognizes my position as Head of the Family."
Kosta sneered. "And if we take the drive right now and put a bullet in your head?"
Norah offered a cold, beautiful smile that sent a shiver down the spine of every man in the room.
"Try it, Kosta," she whispered. "The drive is double-encrypted with a biometrically timed key. If my heart stops beating, the entire four hundred million is automatically transferred to the Federal Bureau of Investigation, along with thirty years of this council's tax evasion records."
Kosta froze. His hand, which had been creeping toward his suit jacket, stopped completely.
May you like
Norah took a step closer to the table, leaning in until she was just inches from Kosta’s face.
"My father always said you were greedy, Kosta," Norah murmured softly. "Now... do you want to be rich, or do you want to die?"
