Chapter 13 - The Shattered Syndicate
Within forty-eight hours of the commission’s ruling, the kingdom of Dante Moretti disintegrated like wet parchment in a storm.
The Nevada State Gaming Control Board padlocked the entrance to the Bellagio’s private high-roller salons at midnight.
Sterling Global security teams, clad in dark suits and backed by armed state marshals, took control of the management suites, changing every electronic keycard on the executive floors.
Dante sat in his private office at the Bellagio for the very last time, watching his personal possessions being placed into cardboard boxes by armed federal agents.
The door opened, and Marco walked in, accompanied by two agents wearing windbreakers with gold letters reading IRS Criminal Investigation.
Dante did not even look up from his desk.
"Are you here to help me carry my things, Marco?" Dante asked, his voice dead and dry.
"No, Dante," Marco replied, refusing to use the title 'Boss' for the first time in ten years.
"I'm here under federal subpoena."
"I signed a proffer agreement with the United States Attorney's Office three hours ago."
Dante slowly lifted his head, a sickening grin spreading across his hollow face.
"You sold me out?" Dante rasped.
"You were my right hand for a decade, Marco."
"I took you off the streets of Newark."
"You sold yourself out the day you touched Claire's sister, Dante," Marco said without a trace of remorse.
"Claire was the only reason the older families respected you."
"Arthur Bennett’s name was the only reason the banks extended credit to your ventures."
"When she walked, you lost your mind."
"You took fifty million dollars from the Salieri family in Chicago to cover the lease shortfalls, and now the Salieris want their principal back by Friday night."
"Since you can't pay, they called my phone and told me they were putting a contract on your head."
"The only place you’re safe from Chicago's hitmen is in a federal holding cell, Dante."
"I gave the prosecutors your hidden ledger in Zurich."
"They are indicting you for tax fraud, racketeering, and interstate bank manipulation."
Dante stared at the federal agents, but the fire inside him had completely burned down to cold, gray ash.
He didn't reach for the Beretta concealed in his desk drawer.
He didn't threaten Marco.
He simply placed his hands on the desk blotter and waited.
The lead agent stepped forward, unholstering a pair of stainless-steel handcuffs.
"Dante Moretti, you are under arrest for conspiracy to commit bank fraud and violations of the RICO Act."
"You have the right to remain silent."
As the cold steel snapped around Dante's wrists, his mind flashed back to the hospital room three years earlier.
He remembered whispering "You did good, sweetheart" to Lily.
He remembered the arrogant, foolish thrill of believing he could have everything—the empire, the obedient wife, the secret mistress, and the illegitimate heir.
He had thought himself a god in the desert.
Now, the desert was reclaiming its dust.
Outside the Bellagio, as the federal cruisers lined up with flashing blue lights, a frantic Lily tried to push through the yellow police tape holding Isabella by the hand.
"Dante!" she screamed, her eyes swollen and red.
"Where are they taking you?!"
"What about Isabella?!"
"The bank locked the penthouse accounts! I don't have money to buy groceries!"
Dante walked past her flanked by two marshals, his head held low.
He stopped beside the cruiser, turned his face slightly toward Lily, and spoke his final words to her.
"Leave Las Vegas, Lily," Dante whispered with bitter weariness.
"Go find another man whose life you can tear apart."
May you like
"Because there is nothing left here for either of us."
The marshal pushed Dante into the back seat of the cruiser, the heavy door slammed shut, and the siren wailed into the desert afternoon, carrying away the last king of the Moretti line.
