Chapter 9 - The Final Reckoning
Three days later, Don Salvatore Falcone sat at his mahogany desk in his fortified North Side mansion, staring blankly at a laptop screen that displayed a flashing error message: Account Balance: $0.00.
His offshore accounts, his laundering networks, his real estate portfolios, and his Swiss holding firms had all been systematically wiped clean, frozen, and reported to the federal authorities by an invisible hand.
The phone on his desk rang.
Falcone picked it up with a shaking hand. "Who is this?"
"It's Vance," my voice replied through the secure line, calm, steady, and utterly lethal.
"You..." Falcone snarled, his face purple with rage. "You ruined me! You took everything!"
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"I took what you stole from others," I said coldly. "And now, Salvatore, you're a king without a kingdom. The commission is already voting on your replacement. If you ever step foot in Chicago again—or if you ever come within a hundred miles of Rosa and her daughters—I won't just wipe your bank accounts. I'll wipe your bloodline."
I hung up the phone before he could reply, tossing the burner device out the window of the moving truck as we crossed the state line, heading south toward the sun.
