Chapter 9 - The Old King's Fall
Stefano moved through the smoke-filled dining room like a force of nature.
He bypassed the remaining mercenaries, leaping over the long mahogany table, his boots crashing down onto the floor near the rear exit. He caught Salvatore's lieutenant by the coat collar, throwing him violently into the wall before kicking his weapon away.
Salvatore stopped. He turned around slowly, leaning heavily on his silver cane, staring at his son with dark, defeated eyes.
"You were always too soft, Stefano," the old man spat, coughing blood. "You let feelings get in the way. You loved Clara... and now you love her daughter."
Stefano walked up to his father, stopping inches away. He didn't raise his gun. He simply looked down at the old tyrant who had terrorized New York for forty years.
"Love isn't a weakness, Father," Stefano said, his voice quiet, cold, and absolute. "It's the only reason I let you live this long."
Stefano reached out, taking the silver cane from his father's hands, and snapped it over his knee with a sharp, echoing crack.
Salvatore collapsed onto his knees, his hands trembling as he looked up at his son.
"Where... where are you sending me?" the old man whimpered.
"To a quiet estate in upstate New York," Stefano replied. "With a security team that will ensure you never leave your room again. You will live out your remaining days in total isolation—just like you forced Clara to do."
Tommy and two guards stepped forward, grabbing the old man by his arms and dragging him out through the rear doors.
The gunfire in the dining room died down.
The remaining Chicago mercenaries were dead or captured. The eleven surviving capos stood among the wreckage, bleeding, disheveled, and staring at Stefano with absolute terror and respect.
Stefano turned back to the room. He extended his hand toward me.
I stepped over the broken glass and blood-stained carpet, walking calmly to his side. I slipped my hand into his, holding his fingers firmly in front of the entire syndicate council.
Marco—the capo who had challenged me earlier—slowly fell to one knee on the ruined floor.
One by one, the other ten capos followed suit, bowing their heads toward Stefano and me.
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"Hail Don Stefano," Marco said, his voice trembling. "Hail Donna Elena."
