Chapter 4 - The Fall of Dominic SyndicateBy 9:00 AM the following morning, the financial and corporate networks of Chicago erupted into total, unadulterated chaos.
The news that Lorenzo Rossi had discovered the poisoning plot against his newborn son detonated across the city's dark underbelly.
At 2:00 PM, a fleet of ten black armored Maybachs pulled up to the glass corporate headquarters of the Dominic Development Group downtown—the primary legitimate front owned by Don Marcus Dominic, the man who had paid Mark for the nursery codes.
I stepped out of the lead Maybach wearing an immaculate cream silk pantsuit provided by Lorenzo’s private stylist, holding baby Leo securely against my chest inside a plush fleece carrier, flanked by Lorenzo, Leo, and twenty armed operators.
We walked straight into the top-floor executive suite, throwing open the double mahogany doors.
Don Marcus Dominic—a bitter, sixty-five-year-old crime boss—sat behind his glass desk, flanked by four trembling attorneys and six armed guards.
When he saw Lorenzo walk inside, holding my hand, flanked by an army of tactical operators, the color drained completely from Dominic's face.
"Lorenzo...!" Dominic stammered, jumping out of his chair, his hands shaking frantically. "Listen to me! There’s been a terrible mistake! I had nothing to do with your son's illness! It was that loan shark Mark! He acted alone!"
Lorenzo didn't draw a weapon. He pulled out an executive leather chair for me, settling me down safely at the conference table, standing beside my seat like an iron guardian.
Leo dropped a thick legal folder flat onto the glass desk in front of Dominic's attorneys.
"As of twelve o'clock today," Leo announced cleanly, "the Rossi Trust has acquired fifty-one percent of the primary debt bonds for Dominic Development. Furthermore, we have submitted full audio recordings of your wire transfers to Mark to the Federal Prosecutor's office."
Marcus Dominic collapsed back into his chair, his jaw sagging open in total, speech-bound horror.
Two uniformed Federal Marshals stepped into the suite from the hallway, slapping heavy steel handcuffs around Dominic’s wrists, dragging his groveling, weeping frame out through the glass doors in chains.
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I looked down at baby Leo, who was happily clutching my finger inside his carrier, feeling a deep, weightless peace settle into every corner of my soul.
The men who had tried to starve an innocent baby and destroy my life were going to spend the rest of their lives behind iron bars.
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