Chapter 5 - The War for the Commission
The news of Julian Moreau's exoneration hit the underground elite of the Eastern seaboard like a thermonuclear explosion.
Three days after the discovery at the Atlantic Trust Bank, Adrian summoned an emergency summit of the Five Families—the governing Commission that controlled the multi-billion-dollar shipping, real estate, and logistics networks across New England.
The meeting took place in the grand ballroom of the Blackwood Estate.
Twenty armed men flanked the perimeter of the room. At the head of the long mahogany conference table sat Adrian Blackwood, dressed in a sharp charcoal suit. To his right sat Elena Moreau, dressed in an elegant navy-blue tailored dress, the silver pendant resting proudly against her throat.
Beside Elena's chair sat Bruno. The massive Doberman wore a sleek leather collar with polished brass studs, his ears alert, his dark eyes scanning the room with calm, lethal authority.
At the far end of the table sat the elderly bosses of the other four families, led by Salvatore Vane—a ruthless seventy-year-old crime lord who had been Richard Blackwood’s closest ally for thirty years.
"This is an outrage, Adrian!" Salvatore slammed his weathered fist onto the polished mahogany table, his thick silver rings clattering loudly. "You bring Julian Moreau's daughter into this chamber? You parade a dead man's daughter in front of the Commission and expect us to hand over the family's primary holding accounts?"
"Julian Moreau was never a traitor, Salvatore," Adrian said smoothly, leaning back in his leather chair. His voice was cool, steady, and terrifyingly calm. "He was framed by my father and your inner council."
"Nonsense!" Salvatore spat, his small dark eyes glaring venomously at Elena. "Julian was a thief! He died a thief!"
Elena didn't flinch under Salvatore’s terrifying glare. She calmly picked up a thick white folder resting in front of her and slid it across the long table toward the four bosses.
"Inside that folder are certified forensic audits conducted by the Federal Department of Treasury," Elena stated smoothly, her voice echoing with absolute confidence. "Page twelve details sixteen wire transfers originating from Salvatore Vane's personal shell company in Panama, dated two days after my father was shot."
Salvatore went completely rigid.
The other three family bosses immediately opened the folders, their eyes scanning the paper trails with sharp, predatory focus.
"You took six million dollars from Richard Blackwood to facilitate the hit on my family, Salvatore," Elena continued, leaning forward, her amber eyes locking onto the older man’s sweating face. "You also altered the shipping manifests for the Boston docks to steal twelve percent of the Blackwood family's pharmaceutical distribution."
"She's lying!" Salvatore roared, reaching instinctively toward the inside pocket of his jacket!
WOOF!
Bruno didn't hesitate.
The ninety-eight-pound dog sprang onto the top of the mahogany table with incredible agility! His broad paws slammed down onto the center of the wood, his jaws dropping open in a deafening, blood-curdling bark that echoed off the high ceilings!
Salvatore froze, his hand pinned inside his jacket, his face draining of all color as the massive Doberman stood on the table three feet from his face, teeth bared, eyes glowing with primal fury.
Adrian didn't even stand up. He calmly took a sip from his crystal glass of water.
"Touch that coat, Salvatore, and Bruno won't wait for my command," Adrian said softly.
The other three bosses immediately closed their folders, looking at Salvatore with cold, calculating disgust. The evidence was absolute. Salvatore had broken the foundational charter of the Commission by stealing from another family's boss.
"Salvatore Vane," spoken by Thomas Moretti, the eldest boss of the Brooklyn syndicate. "Your seat on this Commission is stripped. Your assets are seized by the collective council, effective immediately."
Salvatore stared around the room in absolute horror. His own guards behind him lowered their heads, refusing to meet his eyes. He had been completely stripped of power in less than ten minutes.
"Get him out of my house," Adrian commanded flatly.
Marcus Reed stepped forward, grabbing Salvatore by the collar of his suit, hauling the sputtering old man out through the double oak doors.
Silence descended over the grand ballroom.
Thomas Moretti looked across the long table at Adrian, then turned his gaze toward Elena Moreau. A faint, respectful smile touched the old man’s lips.
"Julian Moreau was a good man," Thomas said quietly. "We were fools to believe Richard's lies eight years ago. Miss Moreau... on behalf of the Commission, your family's name is cleared, and your father's share of the syndicate assets will be restored to you in full."
Elena felt a massive weight lift from her shoulders—a weight she had carried through eight long, painful years of hiding, fear, and grief. Tears welled in her eyes, but she held her head high, nodding with quiet dignity.
"Thank you, Mr. Moretti," Elena said softly.
Adrian stood up, taking Elena’s hand in his.
"The old Blackwood syndicate is finished," Adrian announced to the remaining bosses, his deep voice resounding throughout the room. "From this day forward, the Blackwood shipping networks will operate strictly through legal, transparent international logistics. If any of your families wish to do business with us, you will abide by our new rules. Or you will be left behind."
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The three remaining bosses exchanged long, serious glances. But seeing the absolute authority in Adrian’s eyes—and the fierce loyalty of the woman and the dog beside him—they slowly stood up and bowed their heads in agreement.
The war was won.
