Chapter 6 - THE SYNDICATE COUNCILThe subterranean boardroom of the Ashford Tower smelled of old leather, expensive cigars, and suppressed violence.
Twelve men sat around a massive oval table crafted from petrified wood. These were the capos, elders, and financial kingpins of the East Coast underworld—men who could collapse a global stock market with a single phone call or make a man vanish without a trace before breakfast.
At the head of the table sat Kendrick Ashford, perfectly still, his fingers steepened under his chin.
To his right sat Barrett Hayes, his face still flushed with residual fury, trying desperately to mask his panic over the failed midnight hit.
"Gentlemen," Barrett spoke up, his voice oily and calculated as he stood and leaned over the table. "We are here to ratify the annual territorial pact and the bloodline alliance. For months, we agreed that the union between my niece Victoria and Chairman Ashford was the cornerstone of our mutual prosperity."
Barrett slammed his hand onto the table. "Yet, last night, Chairman Ashford humiliated every family in this room by elevating an unknown, unverified waitress to a position of supreme status—all because of a stray dog and a child’s whim!"
Murmurs rippled through the table. Several older capos nodded in agreement, casting suspicious glances at Kendrick.
"We need stability, Kendrick," an elderly capo named Salvatore murmured, stroking his white beard. "Not circus acts. Who is this girl? What do her sponsors want? Is she a federal informant?"
Kendrick didn't move. He let the murmurs grow, letting the tension stretch like a rubber band about to snap. Then, slowly, he lowered his hands and leaned back in his leather chair.
"She is nobody," Kendrick said smoothly.
Barrett sneered triumphantly. "There! He admits it! She is a liability—"
"She is nobody," Kendrick repeated, his voice cutting through Barrett's words like a razor blade, "which means she owes allegiance to no rival syndicate, no corrupt politician, and no backstabbing traitor sitting at this table."
The room went dead silent. Barrett’s triumphant smile froze on his face.
"Last night," Kendrick continued, his icy gray eyes sweeping slowly across the faces of the capos, "someone sent two professional hitmen into my penthouse to eliminate her. They didn't come through the windows from the street. They bypassed the biometric security gates on the 90階. Which means..."
Kendrick paused, letting the silence weigh down like an iron anvil.
"...someone in this room provided them with the access codes."
Color drained instantly from Barrett’s face. He forced a harsh, nervous laugh. "Are you accusing me, Kendrick? That’s absurd! You're letting your obsession with a gutter rat cloud your judgment!"
Before Kendrick could reply, the heavy oak doors of the boardroom swung open with a resounding bang.
A breathless security captain rushed in, holding a heavily encrypted tablet. He marched straight up to Kendrick and whispered something into his ear.
May you like
Kendrick’s face didn't change expression, but the temperature in the room dropped ten degrees. He slowly stood up, placing both palms flat on the table, and looked directly at Barrett Hayes.
"Your men didn't just fail to kill her, Barrett," Kendrick said softly. "One of them survived the interrogation down in sub-level four. And he signed a full confession... naming you as the paymaster."
