Chapter 6 - The Velvet TrapThe Palmer House grand ballroom glittered under crystal chandeliers, filled with Chicago’s elite, corrupt politicians, and high-ranking syndicate capos dressed in expensive tuxedos and designer gowns. At the center of the dais stood Daniel Shaw, holding a glass of champagne as he addressed the murmuring crowd.
"Gentlemen, and honored guests," Daniel began, his voice echoing smoothly through the microphone. "Tonight is a night of transition. For too long, our family has been led by impulse and erratic vengeance. Gabriel Russo's recent actions—including the tragic, senseless elimination of his own partner—have proven that he is no longer fit to lead."
A murmur rippled through the crowd. Several capos nodded in agreement, completely unaware of the digital storm brewing on their phones.
"As your new interim leader," Daniel continued, raising his glass higher, "I promise stability, prosperity, and—"
Suddenly, every single phone in the ballroom buzzed in unison.
Hundreds of notifications lit up the dark room like a swarm of fireflies. Confused whispers broke out as guests pulled out their devices, clicking on the unlisted video link sent directly from an encrypted server.
Daniel paused, frowning as he noticed the sudden shift in the room's atmosphere. He tapped his earpiece. "Tech team, what's happening? Why are phones ringing?"
Before his security detail could answer, the massive projection screen behind the stage flickered to life.
The crystal-clear video of Daniel sitting in Gabriel's office, laughing with Connor Bell and confessing to the framing, the embezzlement, and the FBI deal, began to play on loop across the giant display.
Daniel's face drained of all color. He dropped his champagne flute, the crystal shattering against the stage floor.
"Turn that off!" Daniel shrieked, lunging for the control panel. "It's a deepfake! It's an AI fabrication!"
"Is it, Daniel?"
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A deep, commanding voice echoed from the grand double doors at the back of the ballroom.
The heavy oak doors swung wide open.
