Chapter 7 - The Fall Of The Usurper
The capos turned on Vincent instantly, drawing their sidearms in a flash of chrome and steel.
“Traitor!” Moretti roared, pointing his gun directly at Vincent’s chest. “You sold us out to the feds!”
Vincent’s guards, realizing the game was completely lost and looking at the undeniable evidence on the screen, slowly backed away, dropping their weapons onto the carpeted floor.
Panicked, Vincent grabbed the leather briefcase full of stolen cash, pulled a hidden derringer from his sleeve, and fired wildly toward the gallery balcony before sprinting toward the side emergency exit.
Lorenzo didn’t flinch. He fired three precise shots.
The first bullet struck the briefcase, blasting it out of Vincent’s grip and scattering hundred-dollar bills through the air like snow. The second bullet destroyed the lock on the side door, jamming it shut. The third bullet hit the floor directly in front of Vincent’s polished leather shoes, stopping him dead in his tracks.
Lorenzo walked slowly down the grand spiral staircase, his boots clicking rhythmically against the marble. Though his body was bandaged and bruised, his presence filled the entire room, commanding absolute, undisputed authority.
He walked past the quiet capos, stepped right up to Vincent Romano, and looked down at the trembling coward who had tried to steal his legacy.
“You dragged me to my own cellar,” Lorenzo said quietly, his voice carrying through the silent room like a death sentence. “You tied me up with plastic zip-ties like garbage. You thought a man’s life could be ended by a knife in the dark.”
Vincent fell to his knees, sweat pouring down his pale face. “Lorenzo… please… Marco made me do it! It was Bruno’s idea!”
“Marco is lying under three tons of firewood in the cellar,” Lorenzo said coldly.
Lorenzo reached into his pocket and pulled out the small, broken piece of pink plastic—the half of Emma’s craft scissors that had cut through his bindings and saved his life.
He dropped the broken toy onto the floor in front of Vincent.
“The smallest thing in this house was stronger than your entire treachery,” Lorenzo said. “Moretti, take him away. The tribunal will handle his trial according to the old laws.”
Moretti and three broad-shouldered capos dragged the screaming, pleading traitor out of the ballroom.
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Lorenzo stood alone in the center of the room as the rest of the family heads bowed their heads in absolute respect and renewed allegiance.
Then, Lorenzo turned away from the bosses, walked across the room, and knelt on one knee in front of the little girl standing by the doorway.
