Chapter 4 - The War for the Midwest Docks
Three weeks passed in a blur of intense activity.
Under Mara’s meticulous direction, the Devo Estate kitchen underwent a total revolution. She replaced contaminated vendors, installed state-of-the-art chemical testing stations in the prep rooms, and hired five brilliant young sous chefs from underprivileged backgrounds who had been overlooked by the arrogant fine-dining establishment.
Her food was nothing short of legendary. She blended classical French techniques with the rich, comforting heirloom recipes her grandmother had taught her, creating dishes that were both incredibly complex and deeply satisfying.
Lucian Devo, who had suffered from chronic stomach ulcers for years due to stress and poor kitchen management under Roland, found his health rapidly improving. He ate every meal prepared by Mara, refusing to let anyone else touch his food.
However, outside the secure gates of the estate, a shadow was gathering over Chicago.
The Moretti crime family—furious that their assassination plot against Lucian had failed and that Roland had been compromised—launched an open war against the Devo Syndicate. Shipping shipments were hijacked at the docks, two of Lucian’s warehouses were burned to the ground, and tension in the city reached a boiling point.
One evening, while Mara was in her private office above the kitchen reviewing winter menu concepts, the door opened and Lucian walked in, accompanied by Owen.
Lucian looked tired. The dark circles beneath his eyes spoke of late-night war councils and endless strategy meetings with his captains.
“Mara,” Lucian said, sitting in the armchair across from her desk. “Next Friday is the annual Midwest Logistics Gala at the Drake Hotel.”
Mara set her pen down. “The neutral summit between all the crime families?”
“Yes,” Lucian confirmed, his jaw tightening. “Vincenzo Moretti himself will be attending from New York. He believes I am weak. He believes my organization is fractured after the arrest of my executive chef and the internal purges.”
Lucian leaned forward, looking into Mara’s eyes.
“Every year, the summit features a fourteen-course peace banquet prepared by the city’s top culinary team. The family that controls the banquet controls the narrative of the night. Vincenzo has hired a three-star Michelin chef from Paris to cater his table.”
“And you want me to cater yours,” Mara guessed softly.
“I want you to cater the entire summit, Mara,” Lucian said, an intense fire burning in his eyes. “I have secured the exclusive catering rights for the banquet. Vincenzo thinks he’s going to intimidate me with French luxury. I want you to present a feast so breathtaking, so powerful, that it proves to every boss in that room that the Devo family is untouchable.”
Mara felt a surge of adrenaline coarse through her veins. This wasn't just a dinner—it was a battleground where thousands of lives and millions of dollars hung in the balance.
“Vincenzo Moretti will have his own security team inspecting the food,” Owen warned quietly. “They will be looking for any excuse to claim we are playing dirty.”
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Mara stood up, smoothing down her black chef’s jacket.
“Let them inspect every grain of salt,” Mara declared, her eyes flashing with fierce determination. “I will prepare a menu that will make Vincenzo Moretti bow his head before the night is over.”
