Chapter 3
The ambient noise of the ballroom had completely vanished, replaced by the heavy, collective breathing of fifty terrified guests. The capos and bodyguards loyal to Xavier subtly shifted their suit jackets, resting their hands near their concealed holsters. The tension was absolute.
"Xavier, please," Caroline whimpered from the floor, wiping a smear of buttercream from her pale cheek. "Don't open it. If you open that envelope, you destroy this entire family."
"You destroyed this family the second you laid your hand on my daughter," Xavier replied coldly.
He looked down at Zariah, who was peeking out from behind his leg, her tears slowing down as she watched her father command the room. "Marcus," Xavier called out.
A massive, broad-shouldered African American man stepped from the crowd. "Yes, Boss."
"Take Zariah to the secure wing. Put six men on her door. Do not let anyone approach her without my explicit verbal command."
"Understood," Marcus said. He gently scooped the three-year-old up into his massive arms. "Come on, little princess. Let's go find you some ice cream."
Once Zariah was safely escorted out of the grand ballroom, Xavier turned his full, terrifying attention back to the yellowed envelope in his hand. The wax seal was old, stamped with an emblem he didn't immediately recognize. He broke the seal with his thumb, the crisp sound tearing through the silent room.
Julian, still buried under the wooden lattice of the wedding arch, groaned and spat a mouthful of blood onto the white petals. "You're a dead man, Xavier! The moment you read that, the New York Commission will order a hit on every single person in this room!"
"Let them try," Xavier murmured.
He pulled out a single, neatly folded piece of heavy parchment and a small, metallic digital storage drive. He unfolded the paper. It was a ledger, handwritten in precise, dark ink.
"What is this?" Xavier asked, his eyes scanning the numbers. "These are offshore account routing numbers. And dates. Dates matching the exact days we lost our shipments in the harbor last year."
"It's a dead drop," an older capo named Vincent spoke up from the crowd, his voice tight. "Caroline insisted that vase be placed exactly on that pedestal this morning. She was leaving it there for someone attending the wedding to pick up."
"You were selling our security routes," Xavier said, the realization hardening his handsome features into a mask of pure wrath. He looked down at the digital drive. "And what is on this drive, Caroline? The security codes to my home?"
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Caroline sobbed, pulling her knees to her chest. "They promised us the Chicago territory! They said you were too soft to lead, Xavier! We just wanted what was ours!"
"Seal the doors," Xavier ordered, his voice echoing like thunder. "No one leaves this wedding alive until I find out who that envelope was meant for."
