Chapter 7 - The Barrett Retaliation
Dominic’s declaration did not go unanswered. Within six hours, the city of Boston felt the seismic shift in the underworld and high society alike.
At noon, three municipal health inspectors and two state building officials descended upon Dominic’s flagship luxury hotel, The Moretti Grand, shutting down its banquet operations over fabricated fire code violations. An hour later, an emergency injunction was filed in Suffolk Superior Court, freezing the development permits for the twenty-acre Bellamy Harbor project.
Judge Arthur Barrett was flexing every ounce of his administrative muscle.
Inside the penthouse on Beacon Hill, Elena stood in the kitchen, watching the local news ticker crawl across the television screen mounted on the wall:
*MORETTI EMPIRE UNDER SCRUTINY: PROMINENT FAMILY ENGAGEMENT ABRUPTLY CANCELLED AS CITY LAUNCHES SWEEPING REGULATORY AUDITS.*
“Elena,” Dominic’s voice called from the hallway.
She turned to see him walking in, having discarded his suit jacket. He wore a crisp white shirt with the sleeves rolled up to his forearms, revealing the dark ink wrapping around his wrists. He carried a small leather medical kit.
“How is Julian?” he asked.
“He took his medicine,” Elena said, her voice tight with stress. “He’s in the den with the other three. Marco bought them four identical sets of Lego blocks. They think this is an adventure, Dominic. They don’t know what’s happening out there.”
“They don’t need to know,” Dominic said. He walked over to the counter, pouring two glasses of water. “Mercer arranged for a specialist from Boston Children’s Hospital to come here tomorrow morning. The best pediatric cardiologist on the East Coast. He will examine Julian in private.”
Elena looked at him, her hazel eyes glistening. “You did that today? While your entire business is being shut down by the city?”
Dominic stepped closer to her. “Concrete and steel can be rebuilt, Elena. A child’s heart cannot. I told you, nothing comes before the five of you.”
Before Elena could respond, Marco appeared at the kitchen archway, his rugged face tight with tension.
“Boss,” Marco said quietly. “We have a problem.”
Dominic’s demeanor shifted instantly. The warmth disappeared, replaced by the lethal, calculating boss of the Moretti syndicates. “What is it?”
“A courier just delivered a personal summons to the front desk,” Marco said, holding out a sealed manila envelope bearing the official seal of the Commonwealth of Massachusetts. “It’s signed by Judge Barrett himself. An emergency custody challenge filed under the Child Protection Act.”
Elena let out a sharp cry, dropping her glass. It shattered on the marble floor, water splashing across her bare feet.
Dominic caught her arm gently, pulling her away from the broken glass before kneeling down. He didn't look at the mess; his eyes were fixed on Marco. “On what grounds?”
“Allegations of child neglect and unregistered parental concealment,” Marco answered grimly. “Barrett claims Elena’s six-year absence and lack of reported paternal documentation make her an unfit guardian under emergency statutory oversight. The summons orders the four boys to be placed into state protective custody pending a full family court hearing on Monday.”
“State protective custody?” Elena choked out, her knees buckling. Dominic caught her around the waist, lifting her effortlessly and setting her onto a high stool. “They’re going to put my babies in a foster facility? Dominic, no! You can’t let them touch them! Please, God, no!”
Dominic took the envelope from Marco’s hand. He didn't open it. He tore it in half, then tore it into quarters, and dropped the shredded pieces into the trash bin.
“Barrett overplayed his hand,” Dominic said, his voice terrifyingly calm. “He thinks he’s dealing with an unruly businessman who relies on public opinion. He forgot who built the docks his family’s shipping yachts sail out of.”
“Dominic, what are you going to do?” Elena asked, gripping his arm with both hands. Her fingernails dug into his skin, but Dominic didn't flinch.
Dominic turned to Marco. “Get the convoy ready. Arm the team. We aren't waiting until Monday.”
“Boss, Barrett is at his private residence in Brookline,” Marco warned. “He has private security. Former state troopers.”
May you like
“I don't care if he has the National Guard,” Dominic said, pulling an encrypted black phone from his pocket. “Arthur Barrett wanted to weaponize the law against my children. It’s time to remind the honorable judge that before the law existed in this city, there were the Morettis.”
***
