Chapter 25 - The Commission’s Final Stand
While the romance blossomed in the sunlight, the remnants of the old underworld were not quite ready to let Dante Moretti walk into the light without a fight.
Three nights after the proposal, an urgent encrypted transmission called Dante to an undisclosed meeting at an abandoned airfield in Teterboro, New Jersey.
The surviving leaders of the national syndicate—Don Carlotti of Chicago and Don Morello’s successor from Philadelphia, Paul Viti—had arrived in armored convoys. They were surrounded by fifty heavily armed bodyguards.
Marco accompanied Dante, carrying a heavy titanium briefcase.
Inside the cavernous hangar, rain beat heavily against the metal roof. The atmosphere was charged with tension, guns barely concealed beneath trench coats.
"Dante," Don Carlotti rasped, leaning heavily on a carved cane. "We hear strange rumors on the street. They say the Don of New York has turned into a saint. They say you’re shutting down the numbers rackets, divesting from the docks, and giving our transit ports to union widows."
Paul Viti sneered, stepping forward. "You’re making us look weak, Moretti. The Five Families don't run daycares. You either remain the Chairman of the Commission and protect our supply lines, or we vote tonight to strip you of your title and divide New York among us."
Dante didn't flinch. He walked slowly toward the center of the hangar, completely unafraid of the fifty loaded rifles surrounding him.
"You want to talk about strength, Carlotti?" Dante said, his voice echoing off the metal walls with thunderous authority. "For fifty years, our fathers hid in the shadows, paying bribes to dirty cops and waiting for the day a federal indictment or a car bomb ended their lives. Victor Romano thought he was strong. Lawrence Thorne thought he was God. Where are they tonight?"
The bosses shifted uncomfortably.
"They are rotting in maximum-security cages," Dante continued coldly. "Because they built their empires on rot, greed, and murder. I didn't get weak. I got smart. The future of this city isn't in back-alley drug shipments and extortion. It’s in legitimate commerce, infrastructure, and clean wealth that the feds can never touch."
Dante pointed to the titanium briefcase Marco was holding.
"Inside that case are the complete transfer deeds to all Moretti holdings in Chicago, Philadelphia, and Atlantic City. Ten billion dollars in commercial real estate, logistics hubs, and offshore banking accounts, completely scrubbed clean by federal audits."
Carlotti’s eyes widened with shock and greed. "You’re giving up your territory?"
"I am stepping down from the Commission," Dante announced, his words carrying the finality of an emperor abdicating his throne. "I am dissolving the New York chairmanship. The Five Families are finished. You may take those legitimate holdings and transition your families into lawful enterprises, or you may squabble like dogs in the mud until the feds round you all up. But as of tonight, the Moretti name belongs only to legitimate business."
Carlotti and Viti stared at Dante, completely disarmed. They had expected an all-out turf war; instead, Dante had handed them an honorable, multi-billion-dollar exit strategy from a dying underworld.
Don Carlotti slowly removed his fedora, bowing his head with profound, unyielding respect. "Your father would be proud, Dante. You didn't just rule New York. You outsmarted history."
"One final rule," Dante added, his voice dropping into that chilling, lethal tone one last time. "If a single bullet, a single threat, or a single shadow ever crosses the path of Elena or Lily Castellanos, I will use every resource on this earth to wipe your bloodlines from existence. Do we understand each other?"
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"Understood, Don Moretti," Carlotti said solemnly.
Dante turned on his heel and walked out of the hangar into the warm summer rain, leaving the mafia and its bloody history behind him forever.
