Chapter 5 - THE CITY HALL CONSPIRACY
The Grand Hyatt ballroom was a display of obscene wealth. Tuxedo-clad elites, high-ranking judges, and city commissioners sipped vintage champagne under massive crystal chandeliers.
At the head of the main table stood Julian Ashworth—calling himself Julian Vance—a sleek, handsome man thirty-six years old, wearing a $10,000 Italian suit. He smiled charmingly, raising a glass to the crowd.
"To progress," Julian announced into the microphone, his voice dripping with smooth charismatic authority. "To the revitalization of the South Side! Together, we are turning abandoned, worthless neighborhoods into prime commercial real estate!"
The crowd applauded wildly. Sitting at Julian’s right hand was Police Commissioner Thomas Burke, grinning like a satisfied wolf.
Suddenly, the heavy velvet curtains behind the main stage rustled.
The lights in the entire hotel complex flickered violently once, twice, and then plunged into total darkness. Panic rippled through the high-society crowd. Women screamed, and chairs scraped frantically against the parquet floor.
"Security! Get the backup generators on!" Commissioner Burke yelled, reaching under his coat.
Before the emergency lights could kick on, a deep, bone-chilling roar echoed through the pitch-black room. It wasn't the sound of a human. It was the terrifying, guttural bay of a massive hunting mastiff.
CLICK.
The emergency red halogen lights buzzed to life, casting an eerie, crimson glow across the massive ballroom.
Standing on the main stage, right beside Julian, was Cole Ashworth. Moose sat at his side, his massive chest heaving, his dark eyes locked onto Julian's neck. Viktor and eight heavily armed men in black tactical uniforms surrounded the high table, their submachine guns aimed directly at the city's political elite.
Julian dropped his glass. It shattered, soaking his expensive leather shoes.
"C... Cole?" Julian gasped, his smooth demeanor shattering instantly into sheer panic. "How... how are you alive?"
"You thought I was busy playing mobster in the East Coast, Julian?" Cole said, his voice carrying clearly through the silent, terrified hall. "You thought you could starve our mother, steal her land, sell it to corrupt cops, and I would never notice?"
The crowd gasped. Murmurs erupted among the politicians.
"He's lying! He's a criminal! A thug!" Julian screamed, backing away toward Commissioner Burke. "Burke! Shoot him! He's an enemy of the state!"
Commissioner Burke pulled his service weapon, pointing it straight at Cole’s heart. "Step back, Ashworth! You're under arrest for illegal entry, domestic terrorism, and—"
Before Burke could finish his sentence, Cole moved with terrifying speed. He grabbed Burke's wrist, twisted it until the bone snapped with a sickening CRACK, snatched the weapon out of the commissioner's hand, and slammed the heavy iron butt of the gun straight into Burke's jaw.
Burke collapsed to the floor like a sack of bricks, unconscious and bleeding profusely.
The crowd shrieked in terror. No one dared to move.
Cole stepped over the unconscious police commissioner and dragged Julian by his silk tie toward the edge of the stage, forcing him to his knees in front of three hundred prominent city figures.
"Show them the files, Viktor," Cole barked.
Viktor tapped a sequence into an encrypted laptop linked to the hall's giant projection screens. Instantly, the screens flashed to life, displaying hundreds of bank transactions, fake property deeds, forged medical records, and recorded phone calls between Julian Ashworth and the Moretti crime family.
One audio recording played loudly through the surround-sound speakers:
“Just let the old woman freeze,” Julian’s distinct voice echoed through the hall. “If she dies on the streets, no one investigates. If she dies in a hospital, someone looks at the paperwork. Keep her out in the cold.”
The room went dead silent. The politicians and socialites looked at Julian with horror and disgust.
Julian sobbed, trembling, looking up at Cole with eyes full of pathetic terror. "Cole... please... she wasn't just your mother, she was mine too! She loved you more! She always chose you! I was just trying to get what was mine!"
"She loved us both, you coward," Cole hissed, leaning down until his lips were inches from Julian's ear. "She kept a picture of you in her pocket every night she slept in that alley. Even when she was freezing to death, she prayed for your soul."
Cole pulled out a set of heavy steel handcuffs—the very cuffs he had taken off a corrupt cop outside—and snapped them tight around Julian's wrists.
"I'm not going to kill you, Julian," Cole whispered dark cold promises into his ear. "Death is too easy. I'm going to take every dime you stole. I'm going to strip your name, your reputation, and your freedom. You are going to rot in the state penitentiary with the very men you sold out."
Cole tossed Julian off the stage into the hands of two federal agents who had just entered through the rear doors—agents Cole had tipped off hours earlier with undeniable financial evidence.
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As the feds dragged the screaming, sobbing Julian away, Cole turned back to the room of stunned, terrified elites.
"This city belongs to the people who built it," Cole said, his voice echoing like thunder. "Anyone who touches the innocent on my streets will answer to me."
