Chapter 3 - The Commission's Floor
The meeting of the Chicago Commission was held in the subterranean boardroom of an upscale steakhouse downtown. The room smelled of expensive cigars, dry-aged beef, and old blood. Around the long oak table sat the heads of the five major criminal organizations that controlled the city.
Dario Dragna sat at the far end of the table, his face a mask of cold, suppressed fury. His hands were clenched into fists, his knuckles white against the dark wood. When the heavy double doors opened and Aleandro walked in, the room went entirely silent.
But the silence deepened into an uncomfortable, suffocating pressure when I stepped into the room behind him.
I wore a tailored black suit that Aleandro’s stylist had provided, my hair slicked back into a sharp, elegant ponytail. I didn't look down. I didn't look afraid. I looked directly at Dario.
"Mancini," the oldest boss at the table, a man named Marcello, grunted through a cloud of cigar smoke. "You interrupted a sacred sacrament. You dragged a bride from the altar of God. Explain yourself before we vote to strip you of your northern territory."
Aleandro didn't take a seat. He stood at the head of the table, his hand resting casually on the back of my chair. "I didn't drag anyone, Marcello. I offered an invitation. Julia Voss walked out of that church on her own two feet."
"She is my wife!" Dario roared, slamming his hand down on the table, standing up so quickly his chair screeched against the floor. "We signed the civil papers at eight in the morning! She belongs to the Dragna family by law and by blood!"
"A law you forced her father to accept under threat of death," Aleandro countered, his voice smooth, completely unfazed by Dario’s outburst. "A marriage built on coercion is no marriage at all. The Commission treaty explicitly states that no family may use the civilian family members of a debtor as direct collateral without a majority vote from the board. Did you ask for a vote, Dario?"
Dario’s eyes flashed with venom. "She is a Voss! Her father surrendered her rights to clear his books!"
"My father didn't own me, Dario," I said, my voice cutting through the male-dominated room like a silver blade. Everyone looked at me, surprised that a woman had spoken on the Commission floor. I didn't flinch. "I signed those papers because you threatened to burn my family’s restaurants and kill my cousin. You didn't want a wife. You wanted a hostage to secure the northern docks. I am here by my own choice because Aleandro Mancini treats me like a human being, not an invoice."
A murmur of approval went around the younger bosses at the table. Marcello shifted in his seat, his eyes moving between me and Dario.
"The girl has a point, Dario," one of the younger bosses, Anthony, noted with a smirk. "The treaty protects civilian bloodlines unless a vote is cast. You broke the rules first by forcing the marriage without notifying the board."
"This is a farce!" Dario hissed, leaning over the table, his gaze fixed on me with a terrifying hatred. "She is a Dragna! And I will collect what is mine by tonight!"
"You won't touch her," Aleandro said, his voice dropping to that low, dangerous register that made the hairs on the back of my neck stand up. He stepped in front of me, shielding me from Dario’s glare. "If a single one of your men enters Lake Forest, Dario, I won't just hit your supply lines. I will personally dismantle every warehouse, every front, and every safe house you own in this city. Try me."
The tension in the room was thick enough to choke on. The older bosses whispered among themselves, realizing that a war between Mancini and Dragna would destroy the city's profitability.
"Settle it between yourselves," Marcello finally declared, knocking his gavel against the table. "The Commission will not support Dario’s claim to the northern docks through this marriage. The docks remain neutral territory until the dispute is resolved. As for the girl... she stays where she wants to stay. Meeting adjourned."
Dario stared at Aleandro, his lips peeling back into a snarl. "This isn't over, Mancini. You think you've won a prize? She’s an empty shell. A cold, useless girl who doesn't even know how to be a woman."
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Aleandro stepped forward, his eyes flashing with a sudden, protective fury. "She was cold because she was standing next to a dead man, Dario. With me, she’s alive."
He took my hand, his grip firm and warm, and led me out of the room, leaving Dario alone with his rotting pride.
