Chapter 8 - The Syndicate Gala
The grand ballroom of the Fairmont Olympic Hotel was a dazzling, terrifying display of immense wealth, political corruption, and lethal syndicate power.
Over three hundred high-ranking crime lords, dirty senators, and elite socialites filled the room, sipping vintage champagne under massive crystal chandeliers.
However, the air was thick with tension. Rumors had spread like wildfire that Sal Moretti had formed a coalition with New York bosses to challenge Ethan Cole’s absolute control over the West Coast.
Suddenly, the heavy mahogany doors at the entrance of the ballroom swung open.
The entire room fell into a dead, suffocating silence.
Ethan Cole walked into the ballroom.
He looked like an absolute emperor of darkness, dressed in a flawless black velvet tuxedo, his broad shoulders squared, his steel-blue eyes sweeping over the crowd with supreme, chilling authority.
And holding his arm, walking proudly by his side, was Sophie Miller.
The crowd gasped in utter, collective shock.
Sophie was completely unrecognizable. She wore a stunning, custom-designed gown of liquid emerald silk that clung elegantly to her slender waist, flowing down into a floor-length train. Her dark hair was styled into an elegant updo, secured by a sparkling diamond tiara, and around her delicate neck sat a multi-million-dollar sapphire necklace provided by Ethan’s private vault.
She looked breathtaking. She looked regal. She looked like a Queen.
Ethan guided her down the grand marble steps, his hand resting possessively over hers, holding her close against his side as they stepped onto the main floor.
The crime bosses and politicians bowed their heads respectfully as Ethan passed, though many whispered frantically behind their champagne glasses.
In the center of the room, Sal Moretti—a heavy-set, scarred man in his late fifties—stood surrounded by six armed bodyguards, his face twisted in a bitter, mocking sneer as Ethan approached.
“Well, well,” Moretti sneered loudly, stepping forward. “The great Ethan Cole finally arrives. And you brought your little maid to the table.”
The surrounding bosses held their breath, expecting an immediate bloodshed.
Ethan didn't raise his voice. He casually took a glass of champagne from a passing waiter, taking a slow sip, his eyes fixing on Moretti with cold, absolute contempt.
“Watch your tongue, Moretti,” Ethan said calmly. “You’re speaking to the future Donna of the Cole Syndicate.”
A massive, loud gasp echoed across the entire ballroom.
Sophie felt her heart leap into her throat, but she kept her chin held high, locking her hazel eyes onto Moretti without a single trace of fear.
Moretti laughed bitterly, pointing an angry, trembling finger at Sophie. “She’s a nobody! A cheap servant from the slums! You think the council will let you hand over half our territory to a woman who scoured toilets two weeks ago?”
“She didn't scrub toilets, Moretti,” a clear, powerful voice chimed in.
From the top of the grand marble staircase, little Amy walked out into the light, dressed in a beautiful white princess dress, accompanied by Marcus and four heavily armed Cole enforcers.
Amy looked down at Moretti with her wide hazel eyes.
“My mommy worked hard so I could go to school,” Amy said, her voice echoing clearly off the high ceilings. “And Mr. Ethan is much nicer than you!”
The crowd erupted into quiet chuckles and gasps.
Moretti’s face flushed bright red with pure humiliation. His hand twitched toward his inner coat pocket—
CLICK.
Before Moretti’s hand could even reach his jacket, fifty of Ethan’s hidden enforcers throughout the ballroom simultaneously pulled their weapons, aiming high-caliber pistols directly at Moretti and his six bodyguards.
The temperature in the room plummeted to absolute zero.
Ethan stepped right up to Moretti, his massive frame looming over the older boss, his voice dropping into a terrifying whisper that only Moretti could hear.
“I know about your illegal weapons shipment coming into Pier 42 tonight, Sal,” Ethan murmured coldly. “My men seized it twenty minutes ago. You are broke. You have no weapons, no allies, and no territory left in Seattle.”
Moretti stared at Ethan in absolute, horrified shock, his knees shaking beneath his suit.
“Now,” Ethan continued, his blue eyes flashing with lethal finality, “you will leave my city before midnight. If I see your face in Washington state tomorrow morning... I will bury you beneath the docks.”
Moretti swallowed hard, completely broken, and backed away in sheer terror, sprinting out of the ballroom with his bodyguards scrambling behind him.
Ethan turned back to the room, raising his champagne glass high into the air.
May you like
“To the future of Seattle,” Ethan announced, his voice echoing with absolute triumph.
The entire ballroom erupted into thunderous, overwhelming applause as every crime boss and politician bowed before Ethan and Sophie.
