Chapter 38 - The Architect's Gambit
"Julian?" Luca choked out, his gun lowering an inch before snapping back up, his eyes widening in pure, horrified betrayal. "Julian... Vance?"
Julian Vance was not a mafia capo.
He was the Federal Deputy District Attorney of the Northern District of Illinois. He was the man who had sat at Luca’s family dinner table three months ago, drinking Chianti, assuring Mrs. Moretti that the Department of Justice was ignoring the family's harbor operations in exchange for stability on the streets.
"Don't look so shocked, Luca," Julian said, his smooth, patrician voice trembling only slightly as he looked down the barrel of Luca’s gun. "Did you really think the Italian syndicate was going to run this coast forever? The world has moved on. We don't settle debts with revolvers and broken fingers anymore. We settle them with hedge funds, regulatory pressure, and offshore holding accounts."
"You used Corrado," I said, stepping past Luca, my eyes locked on the aluminum case in Julian's grip. "You promised an old, dying man that he could be king of the ruins, while you prepared to absorb every port, rail line, and property deed under federal receivership—to sell to Zurich."
Julian sneered at me, though the barrel of my gun pointed dead center at his throat kept him from moving. "And look who’s speaking. The maid. The little ghost of the Carbone dynasty. You think you're clever, Clara? You think cooking soup and uncovering an old ledger makes you a queen?"
Julian tapped the case with his finger.
"This data doesn't just contain bank routing numbers. It contains twenty years of wiretap authorizations, encrypted video logs, and signed payoffs implicating every single family boss in North America. If I die, a dead man's switch triggers an unredacted release to every federal bureau, news outlet, and international agency on the planet."
Julian smiled, a smug, venomous grin of a man who believed the system made him untouchable.
"Kill me, Luca. Go ahead. And tomorrow morning, you, your mother, and your little maid won't just be running from rival capos—you’ll be on the FBI’s Most Wanted list. You’ll spend the rest of your short, miserable lives hunted down like dogs."
Luca’s jaw clenched so hard I heard the enamel of his teeth grind together. His finger tightened on the trigger.
"He's right, Luca," Mrs. Moretti's voice came from the cabin doorway behind us.
May you like
Luca turned his head, his eyes burning with fury. "Mother, he betrayed everything!"
"He did," she said quietly, stepping inside, her combat boots leaving dirty slush prints on the pristine cream carpet. "Which is why he isn't going to die tonight."
