Chapter 7 - The Unmasking of the Matriarch
The grand dining room became a tribunal. Lorenzo remained completely motionless, his hands flat against the mahogany table, his face an impenetrable block of marble as his sister-in-law's confession hung in the air.
"Sal," Lorenzo said quietly.
"Yes, boss?" the old man responded, his hand resting on the lapel of his coat.
"Take Dante downstairs. Put him in the car. He’s going to our facility in Gary. He will stay there until the New Jersey accounts are fully audited. If he tries to speak to anyone outside the family, treat him as an informant."
"Lorenzo, please!" Dante begged, his hands reaching out as two guards grabbed him by the elbows and dragged him from the room. "I didn't know! I swear to God I didn't know it was poison!"
His screams faded down the hallway, leaving only Sofia sitting across from Lorenzo and Maya.
"And her?" Sal asked, pointing a thick finger at Sofia.
"Sofia is a Bellaro widow," Lorenzo said, his voice dropping into a register that made Maya’s chest tighten. "She will return to her house in Lake Forest. She will resign from every board of directors associated with our real estate holdings. The Marco trust will be dissolved and transferred into a secure educational fund for Leo that she cannot touch. She will have an allowance that allows her to live in comfort, but she will never step foot inside this city again."
Sofia let out a cold, mocking laugh. "You think you can just exile me, Lorenzo? I know where every dollar is buried. I know which judges are on the payroll. If I go down, I take the entire shipping channel with me."
"You won't," Maya said, sliding a second document across the table. "Because if you release those files, the federal government will seize the Marco trust under the RICO Act. Your son will be thrown out of Oxford, his accounts will be frozen, and he will be left with nothing but his father's name and his mother's reputation. You did this to secure his inheritance, Sofia. If you fight Lorenzo now, you ensure Leo spends his twenties working a retail job to pay off his legal debts."
Sofia looked at the document, then at Maya, and finally at Lorenzo. The realization that she had been entirely outmaneuvered—not by a rival mob boss, but by a NICU nurse and a financial spreadsheet—seemed to age her instantly. The aristocratic posture crumpled, her shoulders sinking into the black cashmere.
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"You're a monster, Lorenzo," she whispered.
"I am a father," Lorenzo said. "Get out of my house."
