Chapter 5 - The Banquet of BloodThe annual Lombardi Family Gala at the Grand Plaza Hotel was the premier social event of Chicago’s elite underground. Diplomats, judges, corrupt politicians, and high-ranking syndicate capos mingled beneath crystal chandeliers, sipping champagne and celebrating the impending retirement of the aging, crippled patriarch.
At the center of the grand ballroom, Vincent Lombardi stood beside the podium, wearing a custom white tuxedo, raising a glass of Dom Pérignon to the applauding crowd.
“To my cousin Sebastian,” Vincent announced into the microphone, his voice dripping with false sorrow and unearned triumph. “Though he has been confined to his chair for twenty glorious years, his spirit has guided this family. As we transition into a new era of prosperity, let us remember his sacrifice...”
The double oak doors at the back of the ballroom blew open with a deafening crash.
The heavy mahogany doors splintered against the marble walls as a squad of twenty heavily armed Lombardi enforcers marched into the room, rifles raised, locking down every exit.
The music stopped instantly. Crystal glasses shattered on the floor. Women screamed.
And then, down the center aisle, flanked by Mateo and me, walked Sebastian Lombardi.
He wasn't in a wheelchair.
He walked with long, slow, devastating strides, his shoulders back, his face carved from granite, wearing a charcoal three-piece suit that fit his towering frame to absolute perfection.
The ballroom fell into a terrified, graveyard silence.
Glassware slipped from trembling fingers. Several older capos crossed themselves, staring at Sebastian as if he were a ghost risen straight from the depths of hell.
Vincent Lombardi dropped his champagne glass. It shattered against the stage, spraying foam across his polished shoes. His face turned the color of curdled milk, his eyes bulging as he gripped the edge of the podium.
“S-Sebastian...?” Vincent stammered, his voice echoing through the silent hall like a cracking branch. “That’s... that’s impossible... you’re... you’re a cripple!”
Sebastian stopped ten feet from the stage. He slowly unbuttoned his suit jacket, resting his hands casually in his trouser pockets, and looked up at his cousin with a smile that chilled the marrow of everyone in the room.
“Did you really think a bullet could keep me down forever, Vincent?” Sebastian’s voice boomed across the ballroom, powerful and commanding.
Vincent backed away from the microphone, his hands shaking uncontrollably. He looked frantically toward the exits, but Mateo’s men blocked every door.
“You... you killed Dr. Vance!” Vincent shrieked, panic finally breaking through his veneer of calm. “You ruined everything! The Syndicate belongs to me now! The council voted!”
“The council?” Sebastian chuckled, taking a slow step toward the stage steps. “There is no council, cousin. There is only the man who built this empire with his bare hands—and the rat who tried to steal it while he slept.”
Vincent reached frantically inside his tuxedo jacket, pulling out a silver-plated snub-nosed revolver.
“Stay back! Stay back or I swear to God I’ll put a bullet through your heart!” Vincent screamed, tears of terror streaming down his face.
The entire ballroom held its breath.
Sebastian didn't even flinch. He didn't reach for a weapon. He simply kept walking up the stage stairs, step by deliberate step, closing the distance between them with the unstoppable momentum of an avalanche.
“Go ahead, Vincent,” Sebastian whispered, stopping two feet away from the trembling barrel. “Shoot me. Let’s see if your little remote control works.”
Vincent pulled the trigger.
Click.
Nothing happened. The chamber was empty.
Before Vincent could draw another breath, Sebastian’s hand shot out like a striking cobra, grabbing his cousin by the throat and lifting him entirely off the floor with one arm.
Vincent clawed desperately at Sebastian’s wrist, his legs kicking wildly in the air as his face turned purple.
“You forgot one fundamental rule about me, Vincent,” Sebastian said softly, his voice cold enough to freeze blood. “I built this family from the dirt up. And nobody steals from my house.”
With a brutal twist, Sebastian slammed Vincent down onto the edge of the podium, knocking him unconscious with a single, devastating blow.
The room remained frozen in absolute terror. Not a single person dared to breathe.
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Sebastian straightened his tie, turned around to face the hundreds of elite criminals and corrupt officials staring at him in awe, and let out a cold, commanding smile.
“The meeting is adjourned,” he said.
