The harbor terminal board convened at ten sharp.

The conference room overlooked the industrial shipping cranes of Pier Nine.

Rainwater dripped slowly from the salt-crusted iron girders outside the plate glass.

Eight senior syndicate directors sat around the oval mahogany table in silence.

Each man had served Angelo Valenti during the expansion years.

They knew the weight of every cargo container that moved through the strait.

Domenico walked into the room without an entourage.

He carried only the black leather ledger with the rusted iron clasps.

He set the heavy volume on the center of the polished wood.

The thud echoed against the glass walls like a gunshot.

"Gentlemen," Domenico said, remaining standing at the head of the table.

"For twenty-two years, the Valenti maritime accounts carried an open deficit of four point two million."

Director Moretti leaned forward, adjusting his reading glasses.

"That deficit was written off against Enzo's estate after the warehouse blaze."

"Enzo never took four point two million," Domenico said, opening the ledger to the October entry.

"Marco took it to clear gambling markers with the southern families."

A sharp murmur passed down both sides of the table.

Moretti picked up the ledger, his weathered fingers tracing Angelo's signature and the witness seal.

His expression hardened into carved stone.

"Angelo verified this with his own hand," Moretti whispered.

"He did," Domenico answered.

"And he placed the controlling interest of the northern berths into Enzo's lineage."

The double doors at the back of the conference room swung open.

Camilla entered, flanked by the family notary and an independent auditor.

She wore a simple black wool suit, her dark hair pulled back severely.

She no longer looked like the terrified woman standing beside a broken vase.

She held the deed of transfer bearing Angelo's embossed wax seal.

"The shares belong to my father's line," Camilla declared, her voice ringing clear and unyielding.

"And as Enzo's sole heir, I am revoking Marco's executive authority across every dock in this district."

Moretti looked at the other directors, who nodded in solemn agreement.

"The books are reconciled, Donna Camilla," Moretti stated formally.

"The docks are yours."