Chapter 7
A low, dangerous murmur rippled through the ranks of the assembled capos. The Morello family had maintained an ironclad rule against narcotics in their shipping lanes for three generations. It was the foundation of their political immunity. Victor’s secret deal with Chicago wasn't just treason against Valentina; it was a betrayal of the family's core philosophy.
"You're a dead man, Victor," spat a broad-shouldered capo named Marcus, stepping out from the crowd, his hand resting menacingly on his holstered weapon.
"Stand down, Marcus," Valentina commanded, raising her hand.
Marcus stopped immediately, bowing his head in deference to the boss.
Valentina looked back down at the two pathetic figures on the floor. The bright, vivid colors of the exotic orchids and koi fish around them contrasted sharply with the dark, ugly reality of syndicate politics.
"Valentina, please," Celeste begged, her voice reduced to a pathetic, high-pitched whine. "I didn't want to hurt Owen, I swear! Victor manipulated me! He told me it was the only way to protect our wealth! I'm your cousin! We played together as children!"
"And today, you threw my child to the water," Valentina replied, her face an unreadable mask of stone. "Family ties were severed the moment you touched him."
"What are you going to do?" Victor asked, his voice losing its arrogant edge as he finally realized that the capos in the room had universally turned against him.
"If I kill you here, in front of the donors and the staff, I create a mess," Valentina said calmly, her logical, business-oriented mind taking over. "I create police reports, investigations, and unnecessary complications. I am a professional, Victor. I do not make messes."
"Then let us walk away," Victor bargained desperately. "Exile us. We will leave the state. We will never return. You have my word."
"Your word is worth less than the dirt on my shoes," Valentina said. She gestured to the two massive bodyguards standing nearby. "Take them to the sub-basement of the estate. Zip-tie them to the structural columns. Confiscate their phones, their jewelry, and their shoes."
"The sub-basement?" Celeste gasped, sheer horror washing over her rosy face. "No! Please! It's freezing down there! Valentina, I'm wearing a gown!"
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"You should have thought about the temperature before you decided to swim with the fishes," Valentina said coldly.
The bodyguards hauled Victor and Celeste to their feet, ignoring their frantic struggles and protests. As they were dragged toward the reinforced service doors at the back of the conservatory, their screams echoed through the glass walls, a stark reminder to everyone in the room of the price of betrayal.
