Chapter 5 - The First Strike
Panic is a beautiful thing to watch when it belongs to your enemies.
By noon the next day, the Moretti syndicate was bleeding money.
Vincent was sitting in his downtown office, completely oblivious to the impending disaster.
He was likely still nursing a hangover and soothing Sophia’s bruised ego.
His ignorance was shattered when his underboss burst into the room.
The underboss informed him that four of their largest shipments had vanished from the southern docks.
Millions of dollars in untraceable merchandise were simply gone.
Vincent immediately ordered his men to go down to the ports and crack some skulls.
He assumed it was a low-level union dispute or a bold move by a street gang.
His men arrived at the docks armed and ready to intimidate.
They were met by fifty heavily armed Bennett enforcers holding military-grade rifles.
Julian’s men did not fire a single shot.
They simply told the Moretti soldiers that the ports were permanently closed to their family by order of Arthur Bennett.
The news traveled back to Vincent like wildfire.
He finally realized the fatal mistake he had made.
He barged into his father’s private study at the mansion, demanding to know what was happening.
Don Carlo was staring out the window, looking older and more fragile than ever.
Vincent screamed that the Bennetts were stealing their cargo and blocking their trade routes.
He demanded permission to retaliate and start a street war.
Don Carlo turned slowly and looked at his foolish, arrogant son.
He asked Vincent if he had any idea who his wife’s family truly was.
Vincent scoffed, calling them glorified dockworkers and merchants.
Don Carlo struck Vincent across the face with his heavy silver cane.
The crack echoed through the massive study.
Don Carlo screamed that Arthur Bennett controlled the shadows of the entire American Midwest.
He revealed that the Bennetts could starve the Moretti family of resources in less than a month.
He told Vincent that his pathetic affair with Sophia had just cost them their empire.
Vincent stood frozen, touching his bleeding cheek.
The terrifying reality of my parting words finally crashed down upon him.
Meanwhile, Sophia was sitting in a luxury boutique, trying on expensive dresses.
Her credit card was suddenly declined at the register.
She tried another card, and it was also declined.
She frantically called Vincent, crying that the bank had frozen her accounts.
She did not know that Julian had pulled a few strings with our financial contacts.
We were not just severing the Moretti supply lines.
We were systematically dismantling every comfort and privilege they had given to his mistress.
I sat in my brother’s office, watching the chaos unfold on my encrypted laptop.
My phone buzzed with an incoming call from an unknown number.
I answered it and put it to my ear.
It was Vincent, calling from a burner phone.
His voice was no longer arrogant; it was trembling with suppressed panic.
He begged me to call off my father and my brother.
I smiled at the sound of his desperation.
I reminded him that he had told me I was the one who was finished.
May you like
I told him I was just getting started.
I hung up the phone and watched the city skyline, ready to burn his empire to the ground.
