Chapter 7 - THE ARCHITECTURE OF EXTORTION
Emily shrank back against the plush leather of the booth, her brown eyes darting between Dominic and the shadowy figure standing down by the restaurant bar. She gripped Noah’s blanket so tightly her small knuckles turned white.
"Two months..." Emily whispered, her voice shaking violently. "Since the snow started."
Dominic didn't interrupt. He sat perfectly still, letting her speak at her own pace.
"He comes to the apartment every Friday," Emily continued, tears welling up in her eyes once again. "He tells Mom that if she can't pay the extra fee... the 'protection fee'... he'll put us out on the street. Last week, Mom gave him her wedding ring and her coat. But he said it wasn't enough. He said... he said if we didn't have the cash by tonight, his men would come and change the locks."
Dominic felt a cold, sharp blade of rage pierce his chest.
The Moretti family operated on strict, unyielding codes established by Dominic’s grandfather forty years ago. They controlled logistics, construction, labor unions, and high-end gaming—they did not shake down sick mothers and starving children in their own housing blocks. Extortion of the vulnerable within their own territory was punishable by death under Moretti law.
Dominic looked at Marco, who was still standing at his shoulder like a granite statue.
"Who else knows about this?" Dominic asked in a low, dangerous tone.
"Nobody, boss," Marco replied quietly. "He’s been running a rogue collection scheme off the books on four of our West Side residential properties. Keeping the cash for himself, hiding the records from the main ledger."
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Dominic looked down at Emily’s plate. The bowl of chicken soup was half-empty, the warm sourdough bread completely gone. Baby Noah had fallen into a soft, milk-drunk sleep against his sister's chest, his tiny breathing steady and rhythmic for the first time in days.
"Marco," Dominic said, his voice flat and absolute. "Get Rachel back over here."
