Chapter 5 - The Queen of SpreadsheetsAt 7:32 that evening, Emily stood outside the private dining room of the Belladonna Club and considered escaping through the kitchen.
The idea was not entirely irrational.
There were seven organized-crime bosses inside.
Collectively, they controlled most of the illegal gambling, protection, smuggling, high-end theft, port access, and political corruption between Chicago and the Indiana state line.
Emily had prepared seating charts for less dangerous Christmas parties.
Dante stood beside her adjusting a cufflink.
“You’re glaring at the door.”
“I’m calculating the probability of being shot.”
“Low.”
“How low?”
Dante thought about it.
“Three percent.”
Emily turned slowly.
“Three percent?”
“Maybe four.”
“I hate you.”
“You keep saying that.”
Emily wore a black dress Mrs. Alvarez had somehow produced from a garment bag that afternoon.
It was elegant.
Modest.
Professional.
And definitely more expensive than everything Emily owned combined.
She had protested.
Mrs. Alvarez had ignored her.
Dante had been worse.
He had walked into the bedroom while Emily was inspecting the dress and simply said, “Wear it.”
Emily had threatened to invoice him for emotional distress.
He had smiled.
Now Tommy and six Marino soldiers controlled the hallways around them.
Dante looked at Emily.
“You don’t have to come inside.”
“Yes, I do.”
“Why?”
“Because the meeting is about me.”
“It’s about territory.”
“I am apparently territory now.”
“You specifically instructed me not to describe you that way.”
“And yet here we are.”
Dante’s mouth twitched.
Emily lowered her voice.
“If you tell these men that I’m important to you, the target gets larger.”
“They already know.”
“The photograph could have been propaganda.”
“It wasn’t.”
“How would they know?”
Dante looked at her neck.
Emily immediately touched the concealer-covered bruise.
“Grow up.”
He smiled.
“I said nothing.”
“You were thinking loudly.”
Before he could answer, the door opened.
Tommy stepped out.
“They’re ready.”
Dante’s entire demeanor changed.
His posture straightened.
His face became controlled.
The warmth in his eyes disappeared.
Emily watched the transformation with fascination.
He was still Dante.
But the man who made her espresso was gone.
The king had arrived.
“Stay close,” he said.
Emily lifted her tablet.
“I’m armed with Excel.”
Dante glanced down.
“I know. Terrifying.”
They entered together.
Conversation stopped.
Six men and one woman sat around the long table.
Emily knew every face from files she technically should never have seen.
Anthony Russo.
Frank Bellini.
Victor Caruso.
Nico Rinaldi.
Samuel Greco.
Michael Vescari.
And Sofia Moretti.
Emily stopped.
Carlo was absent.
His daughter had come instead.
Sofia Moretti was thirty-four, elegant, dark-haired, and possessed the expression of a woman accustomed to being underestimated once.
Only once.
Dante sat at the head of the table.
Emily moved toward the chair behind him.
Dante pulled out the seat beside his.
Emily stared.
The room noticed.
“Dante.”
“Sit.”
She smiled through clenched teeth.
“We discussed territorial symbolism.”
“Sit, Emily.”
Emily sat.
Every eye in the room moved toward her.
Wonderful.
Dante folded his hands.
“Someone circulated a photograph last night.”
Russo leaned back.
“We all received it.”
“So did three crews in Milwaukee,” Bellini said.
Greco chuckled.
“Subtle photograph.”
Dante looked at him.
Greco stopped chuckling.
Emily wanted to disappear beneath the table.
Dante continued.
“Someone also contacted Oakridge residential facility asking about Leo Davies.”
Sofia Moretti’s expression changed slightly.
Emily saw it.
Not guilt.
Surprise.
Interesting.
Dante saw it too.
“I assumed you called this meeting to accuse my father,” Sofia said.
“I considered it.”
“And?”
“Emily demanded evidence.”
Seven faces turned toward Emily.
She nearly sighed.
Sofia looked genuinely amused.
“Did she?”
Dante nodded.
“She’s inconvenient that way.”
Emily placed her tablet on the table.
“I prefer accurate murder.”
There was silence.
Then Russo coughed into his fist.
Bellini looked down.
Sofia smiled.
Dante’s eyes flashed with amusement, but he maintained control.
Emily continued.
“The photograph was taken at 6:41 p.m. outside my apartment. The metadata was scrubbed before distribution, but whoever sent it made a mistake.”
She turned the tablet.
A map appeared.
“The image was uploaded through a secure relay, but the sender used a private messaging node that has previously been associated with three separate financial transfers.”
Sofia leaned forward.
“What transfers?”
Emily changed screens.
“Payments made to subcontractors working for the Rinaldi organization.”
Nico Rinaldi sat up sharply.
“That’s bullshit.”
Emily looked at him.
“Please don’t use technical terminology you don’t understand.”
Dante lowered his head.
His shoulders moved once.
Nico’s face darkened.
“You accusing me, sweetheart?”
Dante immediately stopped smiling.
Emily, however, answered first.
“No. I’m demonstrating that someone wants us to accuse you.”
That changed the room.
Nico’s anger faded.
Emily enlarged the transaction map.
“The relay was too obvious. Whoever created it wanted the Marino family to trace the photograph back to Rinaldi accounts.”
Sofia nodded slowly.
“A frame.”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
“That is the useful question.”
Emily displayed another sheet.
“Then I reviewed the Oakridge call.”
Dante looked at her.
He had not seen this part.
Emily had spent four hours working with Vinnie.
The syndicate hacker had complained continuously.
Emily had threatened to revoke his gaming-expense reimbursements.
He became cooperative.
“The disposable phone used to call Oakridge connected to one cellular tower before it was destroyed.”
She highlighted a location.
“Cicero.”
Russo frowned.
“That’s Moretti territory.”
Sofia’s expression hardened.
“Half of Cicero is Moretti territory.”
“Exactly.”
Emily changed the map.
“The specific tower covers five square miles. Within that radius are twenty-one businesses connected indirectly to Moretti companies.”
Dante spoke.
“That’s enough.”
“No.”
Emily turned toward him.
The room went silent again.
Nobody interrupted Dante Marino.
Apparently, Emily did.
“It is not enough.”
His eyes narrowed.
“Emily.”
“You promised evidence.”
She faced the room again.
“The phone was purchased with cash at a convenience store. Security footage shows the buyer.”
She tapped the screen.
A grainy photograph appeared.
A man wearing a baseball cap.
Sofia leaned closer.
Then went pale.
“That’s not one of ours.”
Dante watched her.
“You recognize him.”
“Yes.”
“Who?”
Sofia hesitated.
Emily noticed fear.
Real fear.
Not fear of Dante.
Something else.
“Sofia.”
Dante’s voice hardened.
She looked around the table.
“My father hired him six months ago.”
Emily’s stomach tightened.
Dante leaned forward.
“For what?”
“Nothing criminal.”
Several men almost laughed.
Sofia glared at them.
“He was brought in as a corporate security consultant. Former military intelligence. Name is Adrian Keller.”
Emily searched her tablet.
Nothing.
Dante’s expression became colder.
“Why does Carlo need a military intelligence consultant?”
Sofia looked directly at him.
“He doesn’t.”
Silence.
Emily understood first.
“You hired him.”
Sofia nodded.
“My father’s health has been deteriorating.”
No one spoke.
“Cardiac failure,” she continued. “He refuses surgery. Refuses to step down. Over the last year, he’s become impulsive. Paranoid.”
Dante’s eyes narrowed.
“You brought in Keller to protect the organization from Carlo.”
“Yes.”
“And Keller is now threatening Emily?”
“I don’t know.”
Emily studied the photograph.
“Does Keller have access to your financial network?”
“Yes.”
“Personnel?”
“Yes.”
“Territory records?”
“Yes.”
“Your father’s communications?”
Sofia’s face tightened.
“Yes.”
Emily leaned back.
“That is a terrible security structure.”
Sofia stared.
Emily shrugged.
“I’m administrative operations. It bothers me.”
Dante rubbed his mouth.
Sofia almost smiled despite herself.
Then Vescari spoke from the other end of the table.
“Maybe Keller sees a war as useful.”
Everyone looked at him.
He continued.
“Marino attacks Moretti. Moretti attacks Marino. Rinaldi gets blamed for provoking it. Three organizations tear each other apart.”
Emily’s mind moved quickly.
“And whoever remains outside the conflict consolidates the weakened territory.”
Dante’s gaze swept the table.
“Who benefits?”
No one answered.
Emily looked again at Keller’s photograph.
Former military intelligence.
Access to Moretti infrastructure.
Knowledge of the commission.
Access to secure networks.
Someone capable of manufacturing evidence.
This was not Carlo’s style.
Carlo broke jaws.
He burned businesses.
He sent men with crowbars.
He did not build multilayer deception operations.
Dante turned to Sofia.
“Where is your father?”
“At home.”
“Where is Keller?”
“I don’t know.”
Dante stood.
The room immediately shifted.
“Find him.”
Sofia stood as well.
“If Keller is moving against my family, I handle it.”
Dante’s expression was lethal.
“He threatened Emily’s brother.”
“And he may be using my father to start a war.”
Emily looked between them.
Two predators deciding who owned the kill.
She sighed.
“No.”
Both turned toward her.
Emily folded her arms.
“We are not doing this.”
Sofia blinked.
Dante stared.
Emily continued.
“Keller wants division. Therefore, splitting into competing revenge operations would be spectacularly stupid.”
Russo actually smiled.
Emily pointed toward Sofia.
“You have access to Moretti internal systems.”
Then toward Dante.
“You have the best surveillance network in Chicago.”
Toward Nico.
“Keller attempted to frame your organization.”
Nico nodded slowly.
“And the rest of you,” Emily said, “have a strong financial interest in not turning Chicago into an open war zone because some former intelligence officer is manipulating everyone.”
Greco raised an eyebrow.
“You suggesting cooperation?”
“I’m suggesting basic organizational competence.”
Sofia looked at Dante.
Dante looked at Emily.
Then, to the astonishment of everyone in the room, Dante leaned back into his chair.
“Emily is running it.”
Emily turned sharply.
“What?”
“The Keller operation.”
“No.”
“Yes.”
“I am not running a Mafia counterintelligence task force.”
“You identified the frame in four hours.”
“With spreadsheets.”
“Exactly.”
Sofia laughed.
A real laugh.
Emily glared at her.
“This isn’t funny.”
“It is from where I’m sitting.”
Dante’s mouth curved.
Emily pointed at him.
“Stop encouraging her.”
He raised both hands.
“I didn’t say anything.”
“You are smirking.”
“Continue, director.”
“I will resign.”
“No, you won’t.”
Emily briefly considered murdering him herself.
Instead, she sat down.
“Fine.”
The room became attentive.
Emily looked around at seven of Chicago’s most dangerous criminals.
“If we are doing this, there will be rules.”
Russo coughed.
“Rules?”
“Yes.”
“No unauthorized violence without verification. No freelance retaliation. No one touches Oakridge. No one approaches Leo. No one contacts my apartment building because my landlord is already extremely upset about the blood.”
Several men stared at her.
Dante closed his eyes.
Sofia grinned.
Emily continued.
“All information comes through one channel. Mine.”
Nico frowned.
“You expect us to report to you?”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
“Because apparently all of you have spent thirty years murdering one another whenever someone forwards you a suspicious photograph.”
Silence.
Then Bellini started laughing.
Russo joined him.
Even Sofia smiled.
Nico muttered something in Italian.
Dante simply watched Emily.
There was pride in his face.
That terrified her more than the guns.
Two hours later, when the meeting ended, Emily walked toward the elevator with Dante.
“You enjoyed that,” she accused.
“Immensely.”
“You deliberately put me in charge.”
“You were already in charge.”
“I was explaining a data pattern.”
“You gave orders to seven crime families.”
“Suggestions.”
“Russo wrote them down.”
Emily stopped.
“That concerns me.”
Dante placed one hand at the small of her back.
“You were magnificent.”
“Do not romanticize my project-management skills.”
“I’m going to romanticize whatever I want.”
The elevator doors closed.
Emily turned toward him.
“Someone is trying to start a war.”
“I know.”
“My brother is involved.”
“I know.”
“Keller may be more dangerous than Carlo.”
“I know.”
Dante stepped closer.
Emily’s pulse changed.
“And you’re smiling.”
His hand moved around her waist.
“Because tonight you sat beside me in front of the entire commission and nobody questioned whether you belonged there.”
“I questioned it repeatedly.”
“You don’t count.”
“That is offensive.”
He kissed her forehead.
It was somehow more intimate than the kiss from the previous night.
Emily’s anger evaporated.
She hated that.
Dante looked down at her.
“You aren’t my weakness, Emily.”
“You said that already.”
“I want you to understand.”
His voice grew serious.
“The photograph called you my queen because they think that makes you vulnerable.”
Emily looked into his eyes.
“What do you think?”
May you like
Dante smiled.
“I think whoever sent it has never seen you with a spreadsheet.”
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