Chapter 7
Don Castiglione turned to Giulietta, bowing his silver head slightly in formal deference.
"The Commission has deliberated, Donna Marconi," Castiglione announced, his voice carrying the finality of a supreme court verdict. "Under Article Nine of the Syndicate Charter, the Hale family is declared forfeit. Their charters are dissolved. Their territorial routes are surrendered to the Marconi bloodline as blood restitution for the murder of Leo Marconi."
"No!" Warren yelled, attempting to leap from his chair, but Silvio drove a heavy knee into his back, forcing the old man back onto the mahogany seat. "You cannot strip forty years of work with a single decree! The Hale name built these docks!"
"Your name built nothing, Warren," Don Moretti sneered, stepping closer. "You stole from your partners, you murdered a brother of the table, and you raised a coward who uses golf clubs on women. You are lucky we permit you to breathe until sunset."
Castiglione looked at Giulietta. "The disposal of the principals is left to your discretion, Donna Marconi. The Commission will not interfere."
"Thank you, Don Castiglione," Giulietta said with a polite, regal nod.
The two elders turned on their heels, exiting the conservatory flanked by their guards, leaving the Hales alone once more with the Marconi soldiers.
Giulietta walked over to the mahogany guest chairs, stopping directly in front of Preston.
Preston looked up through his swollen, tear-stained eyes, his face a pathetic canvas of terror. "Giulietta... please. I loved you. I really did! When we met in Newport, I thought you were the most beautiful woman I’d ever seen! I wanted to protect you!"
"You wanted to protect me?" Giulietta repeated, her voice dripping with venomous amusement. "Is that why you locked the bridal suite door ten minutes ago? Is that why you raised a titanium club to my face?"
Preston flinched, clutching his broken wrist. "Dad made me do it! He told me that if I didn't break your pride before the ceremony, you’d never sign over the northern berths! He threatened to disown me if I didn't establish dominance!"
"You pathetic worm," Warren hissed from the adjacent chair, glaring at his son with pure hatred. "Blaming your father like a beaten dog."
"You made me like this!" Preston screamed back, saliva flying from his lips. "You beat Mom until she lost her mind! You told me that fear was the only thing that kept a woman in line! And now you've destroyed both of us!"
Giulietta watched them tear each other apart with the cold, detached curiosity of an executioner watching rats in a bucket.
She turned to Silvio.
"Silvio," she commanded quietly.
"Yes, Donna Giulietta?"
"Take Preston to the secondary holding cells beneath Pier 14," she said, her voice smooth and devoid of mercy. "Strip his phone, his luxury watch, and his wedding clothes. Put him in a standard inmate jumpsuit. He will work the night shift loading shipping containers for sixty hours a week. At minimum wage."
Preston’s jaw dropped in horror. "What?! Loading containers?! I have a business degree from Columbia!"
"Then you should have no trouble counting the crates," Giulietta replied coldly.
May you like
Two bodyguards hoisted Preston up by his armpits, dragging him kicking and screaming across the limestone floor. "Giulietta, no! Have mercy! Please!"
His desperate wails echoed off the glass walls before fading down the corridor as the heavy doors slammed shut.
