Chapter 4 - The Geneva Summit
The private aviation terminal at Geneva International Airport was surrounded by heavy mist when Luca’s private jet touched down on the tarmac.
A convoy of four black armored Mercedes Maybachs waited near the hangar, engines idling in the freezing night air. Marcus held the door open as Luca stepped out into the crisp Swiss breeze, his stride steady, powerful, and completely unburdened by the phantom paralysis that had chained him for over a decade.
"Status report?" Luca asked, sliding his leather gloves onto his hands.
"The summit is being held at the Grand Valais Estate," Lorenzo answered, tapping his encrypted tablet as he walked beside him. "Eighty armed guards perimeter the property. All twelve regional council bosses are inside the main hall, currently debating whether to support Federico’s coup or back out."
"Good," Luca murmured. "I want zero collateral damage. But make sure every single rat in that room knows there is nowhere left to run."
Thirty minutes later, the convoy rolled silently through the iron gates of the Grand Valais Estate.
Inside the opulent, gold-trimmed conference hall of the estate, tension was palpable. Cigar smoke hung heavy in the air. Twelve aging, powerful men—each controlling billions in illicit capital—argued in hushed, furious whispers around a massive circular oak table.
At the head of the table sat Federico Moretti.
Federico, a silver-haired wolf of a man in his late sixties, slammed his fist onto the wood, silencing the room.
"Enough!" Federico barked, his face flushed with anger. "Luca is just one man! Even if he's out of that wheelchair, he’s spent twelve years rotting in a mansion while we built this council! If we stick together, we can vote him out, strip his assets, and—"
CLACK.
The heavy double doors of the conference hall didn't just open; they blew inward with a deafening crash, splintering their wooden frames as federal-grade tactical charges popped open the magnetic locks.
Eighty elite Moretti enforcers poured into the room in absolute, synchronized silence, their weapons raised, sealing every exit.
The twelve council bosses froze, their blood turning to ice water.
And then, stepping through the parting wall of guards, came Luca Moretti.
He didn't run. He walked with the measured, terrifying grace of an apex predator returning to his rightful throne. Every pair of eyes in the room locked onto him in sheer, unadulterated disbelief.
Federico stumbled backward out of his chair, his hands gripping the edge of the table so hard his knuckles turned white.
"L-Luca..." Federico stammered, his voice cracking like dry glass. "How... you were supposed to be... the doctors said your spine was permanently—"
"The doctors lied, Uncle," Luca interrupted, his voice cutting through the silent room with deadly precision.
Luca walked all the way to the head of the table, stopped directly across from Federico, and placed both hands firmly on the polished wood, leaning in close.
"You and Valentina engineered twelve years of living hell for me," Luca whispered, his eyes locking onto Federico's trembling pupils. "You stole my life, my health, and my peace. But worst of all... you tried to steal my son."
Federico swallowed hard, trying desperately to salvage his authority. "You have no proof! The council won't let you execute a founding member without a formal vote! We hold the majority!"
Luca turned his head slowly, looking around the circle of terrified council bosses. Not a single man met his gaze. Every head was bowed, every mouth shut tight.
"Majority?" Luca smiled coldly. He snapped his fingers.
Marcus stepped forward, slamming a heavy silver hard drive onto the center of the table right in front of Federico.
"Every offshore account, every bribe ledger, and every communication log between you, Valentina, and the Swiss shell companies has been downloaded by our cyber intelligence unit," Marcus announced loudly for the entire room to hear. "Including the encrypted messages where you discussed eliminating council members who opposed your coup."
The color drained entirely from Federico's face. He realized in that instant that his entire kingdom had crumbled beneath his feet.
"Take him," Luca ordered quietly.
Before Federico could draw a breath, four guards swarmed him, pinning his arms behind his back and forcing him to his knees on the Persian rug.
Luca straightened his jacket, turned his back on his traitorous uncle, and addressed the trembling council.
May you like
"The Moretti syndicate is no longer open for negotiation," Luca declared, his voice echoing off the vaulted ceilings. "From this moment on, loyalty is absolute. Anyone who disagrees is welcome to join my uncle in the cells downstairs."
Not a single voice spoke up. The king had returned, and his reign would never be challenged again.
