Chapter 6 - The Commission's Ultimatum
The meeting took place in the basement of an abandoned marble quarry on the outskirts of Quincy—a traditional, neutral site where the crime bosses of New England had settled disputes for half a century.
Heavy rain poured outside, drumming against the concrete roof. Inside, five long wooden tables were arranged in a semicircle, illuminated by hanging industrial lamps.
Dominic walked into the chamber flanked by Noah and two heavily armed guards. He wore a tailored charcoal suit, his face cold and impassive.
Sitting at the central table was Marcus Rossi—a barrel-chested man in his late fifties with slicked-back gray hair, a heavy gold ring on his pinky finger, and eyes like a vulture. Around him sat the leaders of the Providence, Worcester, and North End factions.
"Dominic," Marcus sneered, leaning back in his leather chair. "You finally decided to join us. We thought you were too busy playing nanny at a local charity."
The other bosses chuckled darkly.
Dominic didn't smile. He took his seat at the end of the table, resting his hands flat on the polished wood.
"State your business, Marcus," Dominic said calmly. "I don't have time for your theatrics."
Marcus slammed his fist onto the table, his fake charm instantly disappearing. "My business is that you shot two of my boys in Dorchester yesterday! You broke the peace treaty your father signed ten years ago!"
"Your 'boys' broke into an orphanage armed with crowbars and firearms," Dominic replied, his voice terrifyingly calm. "They threatened innocent civilians on property protected by Vale Holdings."
"Protected?" Marcus laughed mockingly. "Since when does the Vale syndicate protect orphanages? Old Vincent was funneling illegal money through that place for years! You're hiding something there, Dominic. Is it the offshore account codes? The federal informant lists?"
Dominic leaned forward, his eyes locking onto Marcus with terrifying intensity. "My father’s personal affairs are none of your concern, Marcus. You sent armed men into a building where children were sleeping. That wasn't business. That was stupidity."
"The commission demands to inspect the records of Harbor House!" Marcus barked, looking around at the other bosses for support. "If Vale Holdings is using charitable front organizations to hide taxable syndicate assets, the commission is entitled to a forty percent cut!"
The older boss from Providence, a gray-haired veteran named Carmine, cleared his throat and looked at Dominic. "Marcus raises a valid point, Dominic. Your father was secretative during his final years. If there are syndicate assets hidden in Dorchester, they belong to the alliance."
Dominic stood up slowly. The air in the cavernous quarry room instantly grew tense. The armed guards standing along the perimeter shifted their weight, their hands moving closer to their holsters.
"Harbor House is not syndicate business," Dominic declared, his voice echoing off the damp concrete walls. "It is my personal property. If any man in this room sends an enforcer, a scout, or a spy within two blocks of that building, I will consider it an explicit declaration of war against Vale Holdings."
Marcus stood up, his face red with rage. "You think you can command us, boy? You're not your father! Vincent was a king; you're just a glorified tax collector sitting in a tower!"
"Try me, Marcus," Dominic whispered, leaning over the table, his face inches from Rossi's. "Send one more man. See what happens to your family."
Carmine raised a hand, intervening before blood could be spilled. "Enough! Dominic, you have forty-eight hours to provide proof to the commission that Harbor House holds no syndicate ledgers or stolen assets. If you fail to produce the records, Marcus has the right to seize the property."
Dominic stared at Carmine, then at Marcus's triumphant, ugly smile.
"Forty-eight hours," Dominic said quietly.
He turned on his heel and walked out of the quarry chamber, his long coat billowing behind him.
As they got into the armored sedan, Noah looked at Dominic nervously through the rearview mirror. "Sir, we don't have Forty-eight hours. Rossi won't wait. He’s going to strike as soon as he thinks you're off balance."
"I know," Dominic said, pulling his phone from his pocket. "Call the estate. Tell the security detail to double the guards on the inner perimeter. Nobody enters or leaves without my direct authorization."
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"And what about the ledgers, sir?" Noah asked. "Is there really something hidden at Harbor House?"
Dominic looked out at the rain-slicked highway. "We missed something, Noah. My father wasn't hiding money at Harbor House. He was hiding the truth about Danielle Carter’s death."
