Chapter 6 - Counterstrike
By dawn, the penthouse had been cleaned. The bodies were gone, the broken glass replaced, and the power restored. But Dominic knew that defense was no longer an option. Carmine Moretti had crossed the final line by sending armed assassins into the home where his sons slept.
At 8:00 AM, Dominic met with Mateo and Valerio in the war room.
"Carmine made a desperate move," Valerio said, adjusting his glasses. "The failed strike proves he is losing support among his own lieutenants. They know that if you launch a full-scale retaliation, the Moretti syndicate will be wiped out within a week."
"Then let's wipe them out," Mateo said grimly, leaning over the tactical map of the city. "We hit his compound in the countryside tonight. We take Carmine out before he can try another desperate play."
"No," Dominic said. He was sitting in his high-backed leather chair, looking at a small crayon drawing Leo had left on his desk that morning. "A direct assault on his compound will trigger a protracted war in the streets. I will not have my sons growing up in a city under siege."
"Then what is your order, boss?" Mateo asked.
Dominic looked up, his eyes cold and sharp as diamond. "We don't hit his compound. We hit his bank."
Over the next forty-eight hours, Dominic executed a financial and operational strangulation of the Moretti family that was breath-taking in its cruelty and precision.
Using Valerio’s legal networks and secret shell companies, Dominic froze Carmine’s offshore accounts in the Cayman Islands. He leaked evidence of Carmine’s illegal arms shipments to the Federal Bureau of Investigation, causing two major container ships owned by the Morettis to be seized at the southern port.
Simultaneously, Dominic reached out to Carmine’s three top underbosses—men who were tired of the old man's erratic, paranoid leadership. He offered them a choice: absolute destruction alongside Carmine, or complete control of the southern gambling and distribution networks under the Reyes umbrella once Carmine was removed.
It took less than thirty-six hours for the loyalty of Carmine’s ranks to disintegrate entirely.
On Thursday night, Dominic received a video call on his secure phone.
The screen lit up to reveal Carmine Moretti sitting alone in the office of his heavily guarded mansion. But there were no guards outside his door. His house was quiet. His lieutenants had stripped his safes, abandoned their posts, and left the old man isolated in his own castle.
Carmine looked twenty years older. His hair was disheveled, his eyes bloodshot with rage and humiliation.
"You ruined me," Carmine whispered into the camera, his voice raspy. "You bought my own men out from under me."
"I didn't buy them, Carmine," Dominic said coldly through the screen, sitting calmly at his penthouse desk while Julian played with wooden blocks at his feet. "I simply showed them the future. And you are not in it."
"I still have connections!" Carmine snarled, leaning toward the camera. "I will hire every hitman from here to Palermo! You will never sleep peacefully! Your little Vasquez bastards will never be safe!"
Dominic stared at the old man on the screen. He felt no anger, no hatred—only a calm, absolute finality.
"You won't hire anyone, Carmine," Dominic said softly. "Look behind you."
On the screen, the heavy oak door of Carmine’s office swung open silently. Mateo stepped into the room, flanked by two of Carmine’s former senior captains.
Carmine’s eyes widened in horror as he realized he had been completely surrendered by his own inner circle. He looked back at the screen one last time.
"Dominic... please..." Carmine gasped.
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"Goodbye, Carmine," Dominic said, and ended the call.
The screen went black. Dominic set the phone down on his desk, picked up a wooden block from the floor, and handed it back to tiny Julian, who gave his father a broad, two-toothed grin.
