Chapter 7 - The Unmasking
At nine o'clock, the chime sounded across the ballroom, signaling the start of the formal address. Richard stepped up to the podium on the main stage, tapping the microphone to gather the room's attention.
"Brothers, family, esteemed guests," Richard began, his voice projecting confidence and authority. "We gather tonight not only to celebrate our strength, but to preserve our future. Leadership requires sacrifice, purity of line, and absolute cold-headed logic. Sadly, my son, Don Domenico, has demonstrated that grief has clouded his judgment..."
A murmur ran through the crowd. Publicly challenging a sitting Don was rare and usually ended in blood.
Helen stood up from her seat, walking to the stage with a polished silver tray carrying a red velvet folder. "We have provided evidence to the Elders," she announced, her voice echoing through the speakers. "Proof that Domenico has placed an enemy descendant into our royal bloodline, ignoring the safety of the syndicate. We request a vote of no confidence."
Suddenly, the massive LED screens behind the stage flickered and went dark.
The room quieted down. Richard frowned, gesturing frantically to the tech crew in the back. "Fix those screens!"
Instead, the screens burst back to life, displaying high-definition video footage.
The entire ballroom gasped.
The video showed the veranda from three days ago. Clear, indisputable footage of three-year-old Lily sitting on the stone floor in filthy clothes, a heavy iron chain wrapped around her delicate ankle. The audio played clearly through the hall's sound system—the sound of Richard laughing as he stomped his heel directly onto Lily's pink bicycle, crushing it into scrap metal, while Helen casually handed Ethan a slice of cake.
"Is that your idea of family purity, Mother?"
Domenico’s voice cut through the horrified silence like a blade. He walked down the grand staircase into the ballroom, flanked by six armed loyalists and the forensic director.
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Helen’s face turned pale as ghost sheet. "Domenico! Turn off that propaganda!"
"That's unedited security feed from your own private terrace, Helen," Domenico said calmly, walking down the center aisle. The crowd parted for him instinctively.
