Chapter 9 - War on Moretti
With Jimmy Rossi out of the picture, Dante Moretti realized his last non-violent leverage had evaporated. Desperate and humiliated, he decided to launch a direct, suicidal attack on my syndicate to salvage his reputation.
That night, two of my shipping warehouses on the south river docks were firebombed, resulting in millions of dollars of damage.
I stood on the charred wooden pier at 2:00 AM, surrounded by smoldering debris and flashing fire truck lights. Marco walked up to me, his face covered in soot.
"It was Dante," Marco confirmed. "One of his capos left a signature mark on the bridge wall. He wants a full turf war, boss."
I stared into the dark, swirling waters of the Chicago River. My patience with Dante Moretti had officially expired.
"Gather the whole crew," I said, my voice dropping into a register that made even Marco shudder. "Every soldier, every associate, every piece of heavy hardware we possess. Tonight, we end the Moretti family."
For the next four hours, the Chicago underworld experienced a calculated, surgical purge.
My enforcers hit every single illegal operation owned by Dante Moretti simultaneously across the city. His gambling dens were raided, his drug stash houses were seized, and his lieutenants were disarmed and detained within ninety minutes.
By 5:00 AM, I personally walked into Dante's private penthouse suite atop a high-rise downtown. His bodyguards were already bound and disarmed on the floor.
Dante sat on his leather sofa, pale, disheveled, frantically trying to wipe sweat from his forehead as I entered.
"Dominic... please," Dante stammered, raising his hands in surrender. "We can make a deal! I'll give you my southern territory! I'll pay for the burned warehouses!"
I walked over to his grand oak desk, picked up his glass of expensive whiskey, and poured it slowly onto his oriental rug.
"You brought violence to a children's hospital, Dante," I said quietly, looking down at him. "You tried to use a sick seven-year-old boy as leverage against me. You broke the cardinal rule of our world."
"I was desperate!" Dante cried out.
"Desperation is no excuse for dishonor," I said.
I didn't pull a weapon. I simply looked at Marco, who was standing at the door.
"Hand Dante over to the federal authorities," I ordered calmly. "We have enough recorded evidence of his arson, extortion, and trafficking to keep him in a maximum-security cell for the rest of his natural life. Death is too quick a relief for a coward like him."
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Dante gasped as my men hauled him off his couch. "You're handing me to the feds?!"
"In prison, you will spend every single day knowing that I took everything you owned," I said, turning my back on him. "And you will never see the sun rise over Chicago again."
