Chapter 17

The attack did not come that night. It came three days later, and it did not target the heavily fortified walls of the estate. It targeted the one vulnerability Dominic had allowed to remain exposed: his legitimate corporate holdings.
Domenico was in a high-rise boardroom in the financial district, finalizing a massive real estate acquisition designed to launder the syndicate's profits. He was flanked by Silas and a team of corporate lawyers. The bright, cinematic lighting of the glass-walled room was stark and sterile.
Suddenly, the heavy mahogany doors burst open.
It wasn't an assassin. It was a team of federal agents, wearing dark windbreakers with the FBI logo emblazoned across their backs. They were led by Special Agent Harris, a fair-skinned, arrogant man who had been hunting the Falcone syndicate for a decade.
"Domenico Falcone," Harris announced loudly, presenting a stack of documents. "We have a federal warrant to seize all servers and financial records within this building, pending a massive investigation into wire fraud and racketeering."
Silas immediately stepped forward, his hand drifting toward his concealed weapon, but Dominic raised a single tattooed finger, halting his lieutenant instantly.
"Agent Harris," Dominic said smoothly, his voice completely devoid of panic. He remained seated at the head of the table. "You are disrupting a legitimate business meeting. On whose authority are you executing this circus?"
"We received an anonymous, highly detailed cache of offshore banking records," Harris smirked, leaning over the table. "Records that perfectly link your shell companies to the illegal weapons shipments moving through the eastern ports."
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Dominic’s cold eyes narrowed. The leak was highly sophisticated. It required access to internal syndicate ledgers—access that only a few people possessed. It was a coordinated, bureaucratic strike orchestrated by Arthur Sinclair, utilizing the federal government as his personal hit squad.
"Execute the warrant," Harris barked to his agents.