Chapter 6 - THE CONFESSION UNDER FIRE"You stupid, arrogant bastard," Grant hissed, his facade finally cracking completely. All the oily charm evaporated, leaving behind the desperate snarl of a cornered animal. "Do you have any idea how much money was sitting on the table? You were reckless! You were going to get us all killed with your old-school code of honor. I saved this family!"
"By turning yourself into a thief and a jailer?" Dominic’s voice was like grinding stones. He raised the suppressed pistol another inch, locking the laser sight dead-center on Grant's chest. "You weren't saving the family, Grant. You were building your own empire on top of my grave."
"And it worked for six years!" Grant laughed hysterically, his eyes wild. "You sat in that chair feeling sorry for yourself while I signed the contracts, bought the politicians, and built the new corridors of power. You think the capos care that you can stand up now? They want stability. They want profit. They don't want a paranoid king who just crawled out of a wheelchair!"
"Let’s let them decide that," a cold, smooth voice echoed from the hallway behind Dominic.
Both men whipped their heads toward the doorway.
Stepping out of the shadows of the corridor was Salvatore Rossi, the aging, powerful head of the Chicago Commission, flanked by two armed enforcers in black overcoats. Rossi’s sharp eyes surveyed the scene: Dominic standing tall on trembling legs, Grant backed against the wall with his hands half-raised, and Clara holding the laptop.
"Salvatore," Grant choked out, his color draining completely. "This... this is an internal family matter. Dom is erratic—"
"Quiet, boy," Rossi commanded, his voice carrying the absolute authority of a man who had ruled the Chicago underworld since before Grant was born. Rossi walked slowly into the room, his gaze fixed on Dominic. "I received an anonymous data package thirty minutes ago detailing every financial wire transfer from your accounts to offshore shell companies, Grant. Coupled with Dr. Kline’s medical ledger."
Rossi turned his cold, calculating eyes onto Grant. "You didn't just betray your blood, Grant. You violated the commission code. You manipulated a made man under the guise of medical care."
Grant’s knees buckled slightly. He looked toward the hallway window, calculating his chances of outrunning Rossi’s men. Zero.
"Take him down to the lower vaults," Dominic instructed, his voice steady even as his legs burned with white-hot agony. "Lock him in the same medical cell where Kline kept me doped up for six years. Let him experience what real isolation feels like."
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The two enforcers moved in instantly, grabbing Grant by the arms and dragging him kicking and screaming down the corridor.
As the echoes of Grant’s curses faded into the depths of the mansion, Dominic’s knees finally gave out.
