Chapter 22 - The Commission's Demand
The invitation for a sit-down arrived two days later, delivered by a terrified courier.
The meeting was set at a neutral location, an old, abandoned cathedral on the border of the state line.
Arthur wore a bespoke black suit, looking every inch the untouchable mafia don.
Clara wore a tailored charcoal trench coat, refusing to stay behind at the estate despite Arthur’s initial protests.
“They are old school, Clara,” Arthur had warned her in the car.
“They do not respect women in this life, and they will try to use you to insult me.”
“Let them try,” Clara had answered, checking the safety on the silver revolver hidden in her coat pocket.
When they pushed open the heavy wooden doors of the cathedral, the air smelled of dust and old incense.
At the end of the aisle, sitting at a long wooden table, were the three remaining bosses of the New York Commission.
Dominic, the oldest and most ruthless of the three, smirked around a burning cigar as they approached.
“Arthur, my boy, you look well for a man who nearly died a few months ago,” Dominic croaked.
Arthur did not offer his hand, nor did he sit down in the empty chairs provided.
“Cut the pleasantries, Dominic, and tell me why you sent me Salvatore’s watch,” Arthur demanded.
Dominic chuckled, blowing a thick cloud of gray smoke toward the vaulted ceiling.
“Salvatore got old, Arthur, he forgot how to properly manage a business.”
“We are expanding our ports, and your city is now under the jurisdiction of the New York Commission.”
Arthur’s eyes turned dead and completely devoid of humanity.
“My city belongs to me, and if any of your men cross my border, they will leave in body bags.”
The second boss, a hot-headed younger man named Vincent, slammed his fist on the table.
“You have gone soft, Moretti, letting a servant girl run your books and sleep in your bed!” Vincent spat.
The cathedral fell entirely silent, the tension spiking to a lethal, suffocating level.
Arthur reached for his weapon, ready to paint the altar with Vincent’s brains.
But Clara stepped forward, placing a calm, restraining hand on Arthur’s chest.
She looked directly at Vincent, her face an unreadable, chilling mask of absolute authority.
“I may have been a maid, Vincent, but I know how to clean up trash much better than you do,” Clara stated clearly.
She pulled a thick manila folder from her coat and tossed it onto the wooden table.
“Those are the shipping manifests of your illegal gun trades, complete with offshore account numbers,” Clara explained.
Vincent’s face went entirely pale as he opened the folder, realizing she had completely compromised his operation.
“If you ever speak to me disrespectfully again, I will send these to the FBI and bankrupt your entire family,” Clara promised.
Dominic stared at the former maid in absolute shock, suddenly realizing that Arthur’s wife was the most dangerous weapon in the room.
Arthur smiled proudly, wrapping his arm around Clara’s waist.
“The answer is no, Dominic,” Arthur said softly.
May you like
“And if you push this, we will not just defend our borders; we will come and take yours.”
They turned and walked out of the cathedral, leaving the Commission in stunned, terrified silence.
