Chapter 6 - SHADOWS AT THE TABLE
The dining room at the Hudson Valley estate had been transformed into a secure war room. Heavy linen tablecloths were replaced by laminated nautical charts of the East Coast waterways, property deeds, and encrypted laptop terminals.
Although the threat of Nathan Cross and Claire Bennett had been neutralized, the vacuum left by their sudden removal sent shockwaves through the regional syndicate. Smaller crews in Jersey City and North Philadelphia were growing restless, testing the perimeter of Dominic’s operations to see if the rumors were true—that the Vale syndicate had gone soft.
Dominic sat at the head of the long mahogany table, a cup of dark espresso in hand. Beside him, dressed in a tailored navy blazer and dark trousers, sat Mia. Her role in the household had evolved naturally; her sharp memory for detail and deep understanding of the estate's logistics made her an invaluable strategic partner.
"The North Philly crew missed their mid-month remittance," Marcus reported, tapping a pencil against a leather binder. "Their leader, Tommy Vanzetti, is claiming the supply lines were delayed. But my contacts say he’s holding back funds to see how you react, Boss."
"Vanzetti thinks Nathan was the muscle behind our logistics," Dominic said calmly, setting his cup down. "He assumes that without Nathan, our intelligence network is blind."
Mia leaned forward, pulling a thin folder toward her. "Vanzetti’s primary distribution hub isn't in Philadelphia. It’s operating out of a cold-storage warehouse in Camden, registered under his brother-in-law’s catering company. I cross-referenced the delivery schedules from when I managed the estate's catering vendors last year. They use the same refrigerated trucks to move unregistered cargo on Tuesday nights."
Marcus blinked, looking at Mia with newfound respect. "You tracked his secondary supply chain through catering receipts?"
"Invoices tell better stories than men do," Mia replied steadily. "If you cut off the Camden node, Vanzetti loses seventy percent of his weekly cash flow without a single shot being fired."
Dominic looked at Mia, a quiet spark of pride illuminating his gray eyes. "Prepare the economic freeze orders for the Camden accounts, Marcus. Let Vanzetti realize his entire operation is visible to us."
"Understood, Boss," Marcus said, taking the notes and leaving the room.
As the heavy doors closed, Dominic reached across the table, wrapping his hand over Mia’s. "You handle high-stakes cartel logistics better than my old lieutenants."
"I spent three years observing how this house ran while everyone assumed I was just cleaning the floors," Mia said with a soft smile. "People talk freely around servants, Dominic. You learn who is loyal and who is just waiting for an opportunity."
Their moment was interrupted by the sound of small, hurried footsteps outside. Harper peeked around the doorframe, carrying a large sketchbook and a set of colored pencils.
"Mommy, Mr. Dominic," Harper whispered, holding her sketch against her chest. "Are the bad men gone so I can paint on the terrace?"
Dominic stood up, walking over to the doorway and lifting Harper easily into his arms. "The terrace is entirely yours, little one. In fact, we’re going to put up a permanent easel for you out there."
May you like
Harper wrapped her tiny arms around his neck, resting her head against his shoulder. "Good. Because I'm drawing a picture of our new house, and it needs a lot of yellow paint for the sun."
Dominic met Mia's gaze over Harper's shoulder. The war outside their gates was far from over, but inside, the foundation was unbreakable.
