Chapter 7 - THE SYNDICATE'S JUDGMENT

Luca’s blood ran cold. "Where are they?"
"The grand ballroom," Arthur coughed, clearly wounded. "He’s calling in the syndicate captains. He’s turning this into an execution."
Five minutes later, the massive double doors of the grand ballroom swung open.
Inside, illumination came from heavy iron chandeliers. Marcus Sterling stood near the far wall, flanked by eight heavy enforcers. Tied to a chair in the center of the polished wood floor was little Maya, her mouth taped shut, her big eyes wide with fear. Elena was on her knees nearby, held down by two guards.
Seated around the high conference table were the six regional captains of the Chicago syndicate—men who had sworn loyalty to Luca a decade ago, now sitting in silence as Marcus prepared to execute his final coup.
"Look at this," Marcus announced to the captains, gesturing toward Maya. "Luca's secret bastard child. He’s been hiding assets, diverting funds to keep her safe while letting the family business rot. He’s unfit to lead. He’s a broken man in a chair who can't even stand up to defend his own blood!"
"Is that so, Marcus?" a deep, booming voice echoed from the doorway.
The room went dead silent.
Every head turned toward the entrance.
Standing in the doorway, framed by the storm flashing outside, was Luca Costello. He wasn't in a wheelchair. He was wearing a tailored three-piece suit, standing perfectly upright, holding a heavy pistol at his side. His gait was steady, his presence suffocatingly powerful.
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The captains gasped in unison, several of them springing to their feet in sheer disbelief.
"Luca...?" Captain Romano whispered, his face turning ghost-white. "You're... you're walking?"