Chapter 15
The bright, cinematic lighting of the boardroom offered no shadows for the Chicago Commission to hide in. They were trapped, entirely at the mercy of a woman they had intended to depose. Alessandra stood perfectly still, her breathing steady, the green line on her monitor pulsing with calm, terrifying regularity.
"What are your terms?" Morreti finally rasped, the fight completely bleeding out of his voice.
Alessandra rested her hands flat on the polished mahogany table, leaning forward slightly. "The Romano family maintains absolute, unquestioned control over all Midwest shipping lanes. In addition, you will surrender twenty percent of your port tariffs to my organization as a penalty for this insult. And you will formally recognize my ascension as the undisputed head of the Romano syndicate."
The terms were extortionate. They were brutal. But looking at the cold, sociopathic detachment in Alessandra's eyes, the Commission knew they had no choice.
"Agreed," Morreti whispered, his head bowing in silent, trembling submission.
"Good," Alessandra said, standing up straight and buttoning her jacket over the monitor. "I expect the first tariff payment routed to my offshore ghost accounts by noon."
She turned her back on the most powerful men in Chicago and walked toward the heavy oak doors. Not a single bodyguard moved to stop her. The heavy click of her heels echoed with absolute, definitive victory. She stepped out into the freezing dawn air, where Silas and the armored convoy were waiting.
May you like
Silas opened the door to the SUV, his eyes scanning her flawless, untouched appearance. "The meeting went well, Boss?"
"They were very receptive to my arguments," Alessandra replied smoothly, sliding into the leather back seat. "Call the freighter. Tell them to disarm the explosives and head back to port. We are going home."
