Chapter 4 - Resurrection at the Round Table
The Grand Harbor Club was a monument to criminal extravagance.
Situated on a private pier extending into Providence Harbor, the ballroom featured forty-foot glass windows overlooking the black, stormy ocean. Inside, three hundred people gathered—captains, syndicate lieutenants, corrupt judges, and high-ranking members of rival families from Boston and New York.
At the head of the main banquet table sat Thomas, wearing a five-thousand-dollar suit, a glass of vintage scotch in his hand. Beside him sat Camilla, breathtakingly beautiful in a sleeveless black silk dress, her diamond necklace sparkling under the crystal chandeliers.
Standing opposite them was Nikos, the head of the Greek syndicate—a thick-set man with graying hair and cold, predatory eyes.
Thomas raised his glass, tapping it with a silver spoon. The loud chatter in the ballroom died down instantly.
"Brothers, friends, honored partners," Thomas announced, his voice booming through the sound system. "Tonight is a tragic night for the Rossi family. Three days ago, our beloved leader, Zeo Rossi, was struck down by coward assassins."
Camilla produced a delicate lace handkerchief, pressing it against her eye to wipe away imaginary tears.
"The doctors at St. Jude’s have officially confirmed that Zeo has suffered total, irreversible brain death," Thomas continued smoothly, pulling a leather-bound document from his jacket. "As his designated successor and underboss, and with the full consent of his medical proxy, Camilla, I am officially assuming full command of the Rossi empire."
A few older captains shifted uncomfortably, but no one spoke. Thomas’s armed mercenaries lined the walls, their hands resting ominously on their concealed sidearms.
"My first executive decree," Thomas added, turning to Nikos with a greedy smile, "is to sign over the management of the Providence Port Terminal to our friends from the Greek syndicate in exchange for a fifty-percent share in their offshore shipping lanes!"
Nikos stepped forward, pulling a gold fountain pen from his pocket. "A wise decision, Thomas. May our partnership be long and profitable."
Thomas laid the contract on the table, unscrewing his pen.
BOOM!
The heavy oak double doors at the entrance of the grand ballroom exploded inward, torn off their brass hinges by a breaching charge!
Smoke and dust roared into the hall! Before Thomas’s guards could draw their weapons, thirty heavy-armored tactical enforcers led by Captain Moretti flooded into the ballroom, securing every exit, disarming the mercenaries with terrifying, military efficiency!
"WHAT IS THIS?!" Thomas screamed, dropping his pen, stumbling backward into his chair. "GUARDS! KILL THEM!"
None of his guards moved. They were all held at gunpoint by Moretti’s men.
From the swirling cloud of smoke at the entrance, a single figure walked slowly into the light.
He was dressed in a pristine charcoal suit, his dark hair slicked back, his gray eyes burning with the cold, absolute fury of a god returning to judge the living and the dead.
The entire ballroom went dead silent.
A glass fell from a captain’s hand, shattering against the marble floor.
"Z-Zeo...?" Thomas whimpered, his face turning the color of chalk, his knees buckling beneath him.
Camilla let out a high-pitched, hysterical shriek, knocking her chair over as she scrambled backward, clutching her diamond necklace in pure, unadulterated terror. "NO! IT'S IMPOSSIBLE! YOU'RE DEAD! THE DOCTOR SAID YOU WERE DEAD!"
Zeo Rossi walked down the center aisle of the ballroom, his heavy leather shoes striking the floor in slow, deliberate steps.
"I was dead, Camilla," Zeo’s deep baritone voice echoed across the massive hall, carrying a terrifying, rhythmic resonance. "Until I heard my fiancée and my best friend discussing how to drown me in my own blood for offshore bank numbers."
Gasps of horror erupted through the crowd! The captains turned to stare at Thomas and Camilla with pure disgust.
"He's lying!" Thomas shrieked, reaching frantically for a hidden gun under the table. "He's an impostor! Shoot him!"
BANG!
A single, razor-sharp gunshot cut through the air.
Zeo lowered his customized pistol. Thomas stiffened, a red hole appearing directly in the center of his forehead, before he collapsed face-first onto the banquet table, spilling his vintage scotch across the unsigned contract.
Nikos, the Greek boss, immediately raised his hands, stepping away from the table in absolute surrender. "Zeo... I was lied to. I knew nothing of his betrayal. The ports are yours."
"Get out of my city, Nikos," Zeo said coldly, without looking at him. "If I see a Greek vessel in my harbor by sunrise, I will sink it."
Nikos didn't hesitate. He turned and sprinted out the rear exit with his bodyguards.
Zeo walked up to the head table, stepping over Thomas’s corpse, and stopped directly in front of Camilla.
She was on her knees, weeping hysterically, clutching the hem of Zeo’s trousers. "Zeo! Please! My love! He forced me! Thomas threatened to kill me if I didn't help him! I love you! I've always loved you!"
Zeo looked down at her with pure, unadulterated coldness.
"You don't know what love is, Camilla," Zeo said softly. "You think love is diamonds, silk dresses, and penthouse apartments. But a maid wearing fourteen-dollar rubber shoes taught me what love really means."
He looked up at Captain Moretti. "Take her to the federal authorities. Hand over the audio recordings from my hospital room and her offshore account logs. Let her spend the next thirty years wearing a orange jumpsuit in a federal prison."
"NO! ZEO! PLEASE!" Camilla screamed as two heavy enforcers dragged her out of the ballroom, her manicured nails scraping uselessly against the marble floor.
Zeo turned back to face his three hundred captains and soldiers. He raised his hand, his dark eyes sweeping over the room.
May you like
"The house of Rossi is clean," Zeo announced loudly. "And a new day begins tonight."
The entire ballroom erupted into thunderous, deafening cheers!
