THE MAFIA BOSS DROVE HOME WITH HIS DIAMOND-CLAD FIANCÉE—THEN HIS HEADLIGHTS FOUND THE WIFE HE HAD MOURNED PULLING THEIR TWIN SONS THROUGH THE RAIN

Silence hung over the council chamber so heavy that the rhythmic dripping of melted wax from the chandelier was the only sound audible.

Lorenzo walked slowly down the center aisle toward the head of the table. Beatrice walked beside him, step for step, her chin held high, holding herself with a quiet, breathtaking dignity that completely commanded the room.

The surrounding bodyguards, recognizing Lorenzo and sensing the absolute shift in power, slowly lowered their weapons, stepping back against the walls.

"Bernardo," Lorenzo said softly, stopping five feet from his uncle. "You're sitting in my chair."

Bernardo trembled, his mouth opening and closing uselessly before he practically fell backward out of the leather seat, scrambling to step away from the table.

Lorenzo didn't take the chair. He stood at the head of the table, resting his broad hands on the mahogany surface, looking around at the eleven most powerful mob bosses in the Midwest.

"Five years ago," Lorenzo began, his voice calm, clear, and vibrating with immense power, "a lie was told in this very room. My father, Carmine, stood here and told you all that my wife, Beatrice Moretti, stole ten million dollars and betrayed our secrets to the Marcones."

He reached into his jacket, pulled out the red folder marked PROJECT PHOENIX, and tossed it onto the middle of the table.

"That folder contains the original bank transfers, the audio recordings, and the signed contracts proving that my wife stole nothing," Lorenzo declared. "It proves that my father, along with Frank Rossi and Bernardo Moretti, staged her disappearance, attempted her murder, and forced her into five years of hiding in the slums of this city."

The oldest boss on the Commission, Don Salieri from Milwaukee—a grey-haired man of eighty who held immense respect among the families—reached out and picked up the folder. He put on his reading glasses and began skimming through the pages.

As Salieri read, his brow furrowed into deep, furious lines. He looked up at Frank Rossi with eyes full of disgust.

"Frank," Don Salieri said, his old voice rasping through the quiet room. "This is your signature on an authorization payment to a hitman named Marco. Dated five years ago."

"It's a forgery!" Frank shouted, sweating profusely, his face turning bright red. "Lorenzo manufactured it! He’s trying to frame me so he can break his contract with my daughter!"

"Is this a forgery too, Frank?" Beatrice spoke up.

Her voice was not loud, but it possessed a crystal-clear authority that cut through Frank's panicked shouting instantly.

She took two steps toward Frank, looking directly into his terrified eyes.

"Five years ago, Frank," Beatrice said softly, "you came to my art gallery on Michigan Avenue while Lorenzo was in Nevada. You stood in my office, looked at my ultrasound photo on the desk, and told me that a girl from a working-class family would never sit at a Moretti table. You told me that if I didn't leave, you would make sure my baby died in my belly."

A collective gasp echoed around the room. In the traditional code of the Commission, threatening an unborn child of a made Don was an unpardonable atrocity—a violation of the deepest sacred laws of their world.

Isabella Rossi turned to her father, her eyes wide with genuine shock. "Father...? Did you do that?"

Frank couldn't answer. He looked around the room, reading the cold, murderous judgment on the faces of every single boss sitting around the table.

Don Salieri slowly closed the red folder. He stood up, looking at Lorenzo.

"Lorenzo Moretti," Salieri said formally. "The Commission recognizes the absolute legitimacy of your leadership over the Moretti family. We recognize Beatrice Moretti as your lawful wife and the First Lady of your estate. And we recognize the atrocity committed against your blood."

Salieri turned his cold gaze onto Frank Rossi and Bernardo Moretti.

"Frank Rossi. Bernardo Moretti," Salieri announced, his tone flat and final. "By unanimous authority of the Commission, your titles are stripped. Your territories are forfeited to the Moretti family. You have one hour to clear your personal belongings from this city before you are hunted as enemies of the families."

Frank Rossi collapsed back into his chair, his face buried in his hands, completely ruined.

Bernardo turned and tried to bolt toward the side exit, but Gino stepped into his path, grabbing him firmly by the collar and dragging him out into the hallway to be dealt with by Lorenzo's enforcers.

Lorenzo stood at the head of the table. He didn't look at Frank or Isabella. He turned to Beatrice, extending his hand toward her in front of the entire assembly.