The discovery of my father’s true cause of death burned away any remaining lingering trace of mercy within my heart. Lorenzo Greco was already six feet under the muddy earth of the Salvatore cemetery, but his legacy of betrayal still lingered in the corrupt officials

Two months had passed since the downfall of Marcus Vance and Doctor Keller. New York had settled into a rare, quiet rhythm under Salvatore rule. The docks operated with machine-like efficiency, the unions were peaceful, and the Commission worked in total harmony.

The hard-won peace of the winter was broken on a cold Thursday morning, not by the sound of gunfire or the arrival of a hostile Capo, but by the sharp, rhythmic chime of an encrypted satellite phone.

Outside our Manhattan penthouse, a gray, freezing sleet fell over