Chapter 13 - The Tribunal of WolvesThe penthouse boardroom of the Romano Tower in Manhattan was a cathedral of power. Floor-to-ceiling glass windows offered a panoramic view of the Manhattan skyline, while twenty high-ranking capos, regional directors, and financial officers sat around a massive oval table of polished walnut.
At the head of the table sat Luca. To his immediate right sat Emma.
Marcus Vance stood at the center of the room, clicking through a digital presentation on a high-definition screen.
"As you can see from the ledger logs," Marcus projected, pointing to a complex web of offshore accounts, "Enzo Marchetti did not act alone. He had access codes that could only be generated from the primary terminal in the Chicago estate—codes that required Luca Romano’s biometric authorization or an unsecure override."
Murmurs rippled through the walnut table. Several capos leaned forward, their eyes narrowing at Luca.
"Are you accusing me of treason against my own blood, Marcus?" Luca asked, his voice deathly quiet.
"I am accusing you of negligence, Luca," Marcus countered smoothly, adjusting his tie. "Your obsession with corporate legitimacy has left our flanks exposed. And worse—" Marcus turned his gaze directly toward Emma. "You brought an outsider into the inner sanctum, compromising operational security to an unacceptable degree."
"She saved my life," Luca stated flatly.
"She brought the flash drive into your car!" Marcus shouted, turning the room in his favor. "She is a liability! If we don't sever ties with her immediately, the council will vote to strip you of your title and place the syndicate under direct receivership."
The room erupted into overlapping shouts. Capos pounded their fists on the walnut table. The tension was palpable—a single spark would ignite a civil war right here in Manhattan.
Emma slowly stood up.
The movement was so calm, so deliberate, that the shouting instantly died down. Every eye in the room turned to her.
She reached into her canvas shoulder bag, pulled out a small, metallic object, and tossed it onto the polished walnut table.
It slid across the wood with a sharp clack, stopping right in front of Marcus Vance.
It was a custom encrypted thumb drive—not the one from the car, but a duplicate data backup she had quietly copied from Enzo’s terminal in the sub-level garage before they left Chicago.
"What is this?" Marcus stammered, staring down at the drive.
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"That," Emma said, her voice steady and crystal clear, "is the audit trail of every offshore shell company Marcus Vance has been running behind Luca's back for the last three years. Including the wire transfers he received from Viktor Rostova yesterday morning."
Marcus went completely, deathly white.
