Chapter 10
The morning sun rose brilliantly over the Colorado mountains, washing the bloodstained snow in a bright, clean, luminous light. Inside the estate, the damage from the brief firefight was already being repaired. The mansion, though scarred, stood strong and unyielding.
Richard sat in his private study, the warm golden daylight streaming through the windows, casting a gentle glow over his mahogany desk. He wore a fresh, tailored suit, looking every bit the rested, powerful Mafia boss. The events of the night were locked away behind his cold, sharp eyes.
On the desk in front of him sat Lily's hand-drawn birthday picture. He had smoothed out the crumpled edges and placed it carefully inside a leather folio.
A knock on the door broke the silence. The head of security walked in, looking grim.
"Boss," the man said. "We interrogated the survivors. It wasn't just a rogue crew. The hit was ordered directly by the head of the Chicago Commission. They have copies of the port codes Mark gave them. They can't access the physical ports, but they have enough digital clearance to freeze our maritime accounts."
Richard leaned back in his chair, processing the information. The financial lifeblood of his empire was under siege. If he didn't act quickly, his syndicate would bleed to death financially before a single bullet was fired in New York.
"What about Mark and Claudia?" the security chief asked. "They are still in the cellar."
"Keep them there," Richard said coldly. "Give them water, but nothing else. They will remain there until I decide their fate."
Richard stood up, walking toward the window to look out at the snow-covered terrace. The memory of his granddaughter standing barefoot in the freezing cold flashed through his mind, hardening his resolve into unbreakable steel.
"Prepare my jet," Richard commanded, his voice a low, raspy rumble of impending violence. "Gather the top tier of enforcers. We are leaving for Chicago in two hours."
"We're taking the fight to them?" the security chief asked, a fierce grin spreading across his face.
"They came to my home. They threatened my family," Richard stated, his tone measured and deeply intimidating. "I am going to show them that the Bellacorte family does not defend. We conquer."
He touched the artistic tattoo on his neck, a gesture of deep contemplation, before turning back to his desk. He picked up the leather folio containing Lily's drawing and locked it inside his heavy steel wall safe.
"Ensure the estate is locked down like a fortress while I am gone," Richard ordered. "Nothing gets in or out. And tell Mrs. Gable that Lily is to have whatever she wants today."
"Yes, Don Richard."
As the security chief left the room, Richard’s personal cell phone began to ring. It was an encrypted, untraceable line that only a handful of people in the world possessed.
He picked it up, pressing the receiver to his ear.
"Richard," a smooth, cultured voice said on the other end. "I hear you had a bit of a pest problem at your estate last night."
Richard’s eyes narrowed. It was the voice of the head of the New York Commission, the most powerful man on the East Coast.
"The pests have been exterminated," Richard replied coldly.
"Good. But I also hear you are preparing a flight to Chicago," the voice continued, carrying a subtle warning. "A direct attack on their Commission will start a nationwide war, Richard. It will disrupt all of our business. I cannot allow you to take that flight."
Richard stood perfectly still in the bright, warm sunlight. The lines of loyalty and power were shifting beneath his feet. He was being ordered to stand down by the only man who held more power than he did.
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"With all due respect," Richard said, his voice dropping to a lethal, dangerous whisper. "You are not standing in my shoes. And if you try to stop my plane from leaving the runway... you will be my next target."
He hung up the phone, the dial tone echoing in the quiet study. The war was no longer just with Chicago. It was with everyone. And Richard Bellacorte was ready to burn it all to the ground.
