Chapter 3 - The Council of Wolves
The high council meeting was held at the Grand Union Hotel, an iconic marble-and-gilded establishment in downtown Chicago owned by the Calvano family.
At the center of the mahogany table sat Luciano. To his right sat Uncle Silvio—a refined, silver-haired man of sixty-five, dressed in a bespoke Italian suit, wearing gold-rimmed reading glasses that gave him the air of a benevolent grandfather or a corporate executive. Around the table sat the seven regional Capos who controlled the city's territory.
"Luciano," Silvio began, his tone smoothly paternal as he sipped his espresso. "You called an emergency session. Is there trouble on the South Side? I heard rumors about a low-level enforcer named Corrian dying last night."
Luciano did not answer immediately. He slowly adjusted the cuff of his shirt, letting the silence stretch until every man in the room was fidgeting in his seat.
"Brett Corrian was a dog," Luciano said evenly. "He tried to bite off more than he could chew. But dogs only bark when their masters tell them to."
Silvio’s expression remained perfectly smooth. "Meaning what, nephew?"
Luciano pulled a single sheet of paper from his leather folder and slid it across the glass table. It was the forged power-of-attorney form.
Silvio picked it up, adjusted his glasses, and looked at it. "This looks like a standard corporate transfer for one of our shell entities. Your signature is right here. What is the issue?"
"The issue, Uncle," Luciano said, leaning forward and resting his elbows on the table, "is that I never signed it. And the notary stamp belongs to your personal secretary, Mr. Vance’s old desk."
A sharp murmur rippled across the room. The Capos shifted uncomfortably, exchanging uneasy glances.
Silvio lowered the paper and let out a soft, sad sigh. "Luciano... my dear boy. You have been working too hard. Your father—may he rest in peace—always warned me that you had a tendency toward paranoia when under stress."
"Do not speak my father's name to me," Luciano said, his voice dropping an octave.
"I must," Silvio replied, his eyes narrowing slightly, dropping the grandfatherly facade. "Because your father built this organization on trust and structure. You are accusing your own blood of forgery based on the ramblings of a dead criminal's daughter. I heard you took Arthur Vance’s girl into your house last night. Is that wise? Her father was an embezzler who took millions from us."
Luciano stood up. The chair slid back with a loud screech against the marble floor. Every Capo in the room instantly went rigid.
"Arthur Vance did not steal a dime," Luciano declared, his voice echoing off the high ceilings. "Twenty years ago, eighty million dollars disappeared from our holdings. My father was told Vance took it. But last night, I accessed the encrypted ledger Vance left behind. That money didn't go to Vance. It was funneled into three accounts in the Cayman Islands under the name Janus Holdings."
Luciano looked directly at Silvio. "And who owns Janus Holdings, Uncle?"
Silvio’s jaw tightened. A dark, ugly coldness entered his eyes. He did not deny it.
"Your father was a violent brute, Luciano," Silvio said softly, no longer hiding his disdain. "He knew how to break legs and intimidate union bosses, but he understood nothing about modern finance. I built the economic engine that made the Calvanos kings! I took that eighty million and multiplied it five times over! Arthur Vance found out, so he had to be removed. And now you... you want to destroy everything we've built for the sake of a waitress and an old debt?"
"You murdered an innocent man," Luciano said. "You lied to my father. You forged my name. And you threatened a woman in my city."
Silvio chuckled, a dry, lifeless sound. He reached into his jacket and pulled out a small black remote.
"You always were too sentimental, Luciano. Just like your mother." Silvio pressed a button.
May you like
Instantly, the heavy oak doors of the boardroom burst open. Six heavily armed men in unmarked tactical gear flooded the room, their automatic rifles trained directly on Luciano and his loyal Capos.
"This empire isn't yours anymore, nephew," Silvio said calmly, standing up and smoothing his jacket. "It belongs to the man who knows how to run it."
