Chapter 9 - The Tatalia Reckoning
Four weeks later.
The winter storm had finally cleared, leaving Chicago blanketed under a thick, blinding layer of white snow.
The Romano family had fully consolidated its grip over the city's transport hubs. The Capos had sworn allegiance to me at a formal dinner at the Drake Hotel, recognizing me not as Bernardo Romano's daughter, but as the absolute leader of the reorganized syndicate.
At 11:00 PM, I sat in the back of my armored limousine outside an abandoned industrial complex near the Calumet River.
The door opened, and Mateo stepped inside, wiping snow from his coat collar.
"It is done, Carmela," Mateo reported softly. "Marco Tatalia and his three lieutenants were arrested forty minutes ago at their estate in Highland Park. The state police found twenty kilograms of unregistered contraband in their garage—information provided anonymously from our private intelligence files."
I looked out the window at the dark river. "And the driver of the black SUV?"
"He’s serving twenty years without parole for hit-and-run and vehicular homicide," Mateo said. "He won't be seeing the light of day again."
"Good," I whispered.
"There is one more thing," Mateo hesitated, looking at me with a soft, concerned expression. "Enzo."
My hand paused over my leather gloves. "What about him?"
"He liquidated his remaining assets in Illinois yesterday," Mateo revealed. "He sold his car, his father's watch, and his remaining interest in the Gold Coast properties. He used the money to set up a private trust fund for the children's oncology ward at Central City Hospital—the hospital where you were taken."
I stayed silent, staring at the streetlamp casting long shadows over the snow.
"He left Chicago this morning on a cargo ship heading for South America," Mateo added quietly. "He left a letter for you with the port authority manager."
Mateo reached into his pocket and handed me a plain white envelope with no stamp.
May you like
On the front, written in Enzo's familiar, sharp handwriting, were three words:
To my Don.
