Chapter 5 - The Manhattan Meeting
The safehouse on 4th Street looked like an abandoned upholstery warehouse from the outside, complete with peeling paint and dusty rolls of synthetic leather stacked against the grimy windows. Inside, however, it was a high-tech command center lit by the cold blue glow of multiple monitor banks.
When Damiano pushed open the heavy steel door carrying a sleeping Lina wrapped in a red wool coat and a woolen blanket, four men instantly sprang to attention.
Stefano Bruno was among them, his face bruised from the scuffle at the warehouse, his posture rigid. Behind him stood three veteran capos—men who had sworn loyalty to Damiano’s father and had never wavered.
They stared in utter shock not at Damiano, who looked as composed as if he were walking into a boardroom meeting, but at the small toddler resting her head peacefully against his shoulder.
"Boss..." Stefano started, his eyes wide. "Is that...?"
"She's safe," Damiano interrupted quietly, walking over to an old leather sofa in the corner and laying Lina down gently, adjusting the blanket so she wouldn't catch a chill. He pulled his black leather gloves off, tossing them onto the coffee table—an action so out of character that Stefano and the other capos exchanged bewildered glances.
Damiano turned back to his men, his face hardening into an expression of absolute granite.
"Carlo thought he had a clean sweep," Damiano said, walking toward the central console where the financial ledgers were projected onto a large digital screen. "He thought he could hand my operation over to Salvatore Conti and walk away with two point three million dollars."
Stefano slammed his fist onto the metal desk, a dark curse escaping his lips. "The bastard. I knew something was wrong in Camden four years ago. I should have put a bullet in him then."
"No," Damiano replied coldly. "A snake has to crawl out into the open before you can cut off its head. And Carlo has just exposed every single rat in our network."
He tapped a key on the console. A complex web of bank accounts, encrypted messages, and offshore shell companies lit up the screen in bright red lines, tracing the money trail straight from the Eldergate estate to Salvatore Conti’s headquarters in downtown Manhattan.
"They think I'm dead, or at least cornered," Damiano continued, pacing slowly across the concrete floor. "They're holding a summit tonight at the Continental Club on 5th Avenue to finalize the takeover. All the major captains who took Salvatore's bribe will be in one room."
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"How many?" asked Marcus, the oldest capo in the room, his hand resting on his holster.
"About twenty-two," Damiano said. "And we are going to pay them a visit."
