Chapter 6 - The Summit
Three weeks later, the cold Chicago winter gave way to a biting, gray spring.
The war for the city’s underworld was over before it truly began. With the Vane syndicate dismantled and its leadership behind bars, the remaining families of the Chicago Commission had no choice but to bend the knee.
A high-level summit was called at the penthouse suite of the Moretti Tower, overlooking the glittering expanse of Lake Michigan. The room was filled with aging bosses in expensive suits, men who had ruled the city for decades through fear and intimidation. They sat around a massive marble conference table, murmuring nervously among themselves as they waited for Lorenzo to arrive.
The heavy oak doors swung open.
Lorenzo walked in, flanked by Bruno and a second enforcer. But it was the person walking beside him that made the old bosses sit up straight.
Evelyn wore a tailored charcoal pantsuit that radiated absolute authority. Her hair was pulled back into a sleek, flawless knot, and her expression was as cold and impenetrable as polished granite. She didn't look like the exhausted waitress who had scrubbed tables three weeks ago. She looked like a queen taking her rightful place on the throne.
"Gentlemen," Lorenzo said, his voice cutting through the murmurs like a blade. "I trust you’ve all reviewed the new terms of the Chicago accord."
An elderly boss named Salvatore cleared his throat nervously, sliding a document across the table. "The terms are... aggressive, Lorenzo. Taking over the North Side docks gives you a complete monopoly on shipping. Some of us feel that's a bit much."
Before Lorenzo could speak, Evelyn stepped forward, placing her hands flat on the marble table and leaning in.
"It’s not a request, Salvatore," Evelyn said, her voice smooth, calm, and utterly chilling. "It’s an inventory of your remaining assets. You can either sign the accord and retain a comfortable percentage of your legitimate businesses, or you can join the Vane family in federal custody before the sun goes down. The choice is entirely yours."
Salvatore stared at her, recognizing the cold, calcified cynicism in her eyes—the exact same look Lorenzo wore. With trembling fingers, he picked up a gold-plated pen and signed his name on the dotted line. One by one, the other bosses followed suit.
When the meeting concluded and the room had emptied out, leaving only Lorenzo and Evelyn standing by the floor-to-ceiling windows, Lorenzo poured two glasses of vintage scotch.
May you like
He handed one to her, clinking his glass against hers with a faint smile. "You handled them better than my best capos."
"They respect power," Evelyn said, taking a slow sip of the amber liquid. "And they understand arithmetic. Fear is a good motivator, but math is forever."
