Chapter 4 - A Feast of Vipers
By ten o'clock that evening, the lower level of the estate had quieted down, but the air remained thick with unspoken tension. Dr. Vance had treated Lily’s ankle, bandaged her bruised skin, and administered a mild sedative to help her sleep. Two heavily armed loyalists stood outside her bedroom door.
Domenico walked down into the subterranean conference room—the place where the Valenti family decided life, death, and multi-million-dollar enterprises.
Richard and Helen were already seated at the head of the polished obsidian table, surrounded by six senior capos. Helen was sipping chamomile tea from fine china, looking completely unfazed, while Richard casually leafed through a leather-bound ledger.
"Ah, the protective father joins us," Richard said smoothly, looking up with cold blue eyes. "Is the girl settled? Good. Now we can address the business of the family succession."
Domenico didn't take a seat. He stood at the foot of the table, resting his hands flat on the cold dark stone.
"There is no discussion about succession," Domenico said, his voice echoing off the concrete walls. "I am the Don of this family. My word is law, and my lineage is non-negotiable."
"Lineage requires purity, Domenico," Helen interjected, setting her teacup down with a sharp click. "We cannot allow an enemy's bastard to sit in this house, eating our bread and inheriting our legacy. The capos agree. It creates vulnerability."
She looked at Capo Vincent, a seasoned veteran with a scarred face. Vincent shifted uncomfortably in his chair, avoiding Domenico's piercing gaze.
"Vincent," Domenico said softly. "Look at me."
Vincent slowly raised his eyes. "Don Domenico... your mother showed us the blood report from the Swiss clinic. It bore the Valetti seal. If the girl carries Valetti blood—"
"The report is a forgery," Domenico interrupted cleanly.
He motioned to Marco, who walked forward and tossed a heavy manila folder onto the center of the table.
"Inside that folder is the certified audit of my mother’s offshore account in the Cayman Islands," Domenico said, staring directly at Helen, whose pristine posture stiffened slightly. "Three weeks ago, she transferred two hundred thousand dollars to a discredited technician in Zurich. The same technician who produced that forged document."
Richard’s eyes narrowed. "You dare accuse your mother of fraud in front of your captains?"
"I accuse her of treason," Domenico shot back, leaning forward. "And I accuse you, Father, of cowardice. You crushed a toddler's bicycle because you lacked the spine to strike at me directly."
The room went dead silent. The capos looked between Domenico and his parents, the air suddenly thick with danger.
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"Careful, Domenico," Richard warned, his voice dropping an octave. "You may hold the title, but we built this syndicate. The men loyalty lies with the foundation, not with a man blinded by sentimentality for a tainted child."
"We will test that loyalty on Saturday at the Summit," Domenico declared. "Until then, if either of you comes within ten feet of my daughter, or if another lie leaves your lips, I won't wait for the Elders to vote. I will handle you as I handle any traitor."
