Chapter 10 Elio
Sandro was already at the table, laptop open, face grim. Matteo stood by the window, arms crossed, radiating controlled violence. Luca sat with his usual careful composure, but his eyes were sharp. Alert.
"What happened?" I asked, taking my seat. Julian sat beside me, close enough that our shoulders touched. I didn't move away.
"Winston's people found Antonio Greco," Sandro said without preamble.
"One of our informants in Chicago. They questioned him.
Extensively. He didn't give up anything useful, but it means Winston knows someone's been asking questions about his FBI connections.
He's getting paranoid. Tightening security.
We need to move now before he locks down completely. "
"How's Antonio?" Matteo asked.
"Alive. Hospitalized. He'll recover." Sandro looked at me. "But this changes the timeline. We can't wait until tomorrow. We need to leak the Winston-Watson information tonight. Within the next few hours."
Julian spoke up. "If we just leak it directly to the families, they'll know it came from someone with inside access. Winston will immediately suspect me. The Vitales will be implicated."
"What do you suggest?" Sandro asked.
Julian leaned forward, hands clasped on the table.
"We give the information to a journalist. Someone who'll investigate immediately and publish it independently.
That way it looks like investigative reporting instead of mob retaliation.
The Vitales can act shocked along with everyone else.
You distance yourself from the leak while still achieving the goal. "
Luca sat up straighter. "That's smart. The families will focus on the reporter and the FBI, not on who might've provided the initial tip."
"Do you know any journalists we can trust?" Sandro asked Julian.
"Several. I did pseudonymous writing for small publications while I was in school.
Built connections in investigative journalism circles.
There's one in particular who'd be perfect for this.
Valentino Russo. He's been investigating FBI corruption for years.
Has a reputation for protecting his sources and publishing the truth regardless of consequences.
If we give him this, he'll verify it independently and run with it by breakfast time. "
"How do we know he won't expose us as the source?" Matteo asked.
"Because protecting sources is sacred to him.
He's been threatened, sued, even arrested for refusing to reveal sources.
He won't break that." Julian looked at each of them.
"But I should warn you—he's idealistic and stubborn.
He'll need convincing that this is legitimate and not just fabricated evidence meant to start a war. "
"I'll handle making contact," Luca said. "I can be very convincing. If this Valentino Russo is as principled as you say, I can frame this as exposing corruption. Give him something real to investigate. He'll do the rest."
Sandro looked at Luca. Raised an eyebrow. "You sure you want to handle this personally? We could send—"
"I'll do it." Luca's tone was final. "If we're trusting a journalist with information this sensitive, I want to manage the contact myself. Make sure it's done right."
"Fine," Sandro said. "Julian, send Luca everything you have on Valentino Russo.
Contact information, background, anything that'll help.
Luca, you make contact within the hour. Frame it as a tip from a concerned source.
Give him enough to verify independently.
Let him think he's uncovering this himself. "
"Understood."
Julian pulled up Valentino's information and sent it to Luca. "He's based in Brooklyn. Works freelance but publishes with several major outlets. He's got awards for investigative journalism. And he's relentless—once he gets a story, he doesn't let go until it's published."
"Sounds perfect." Luca was already reviewing the information on his phone. "I'll reach out now. Anonymous tip. Enough breadcrumbs to lead him to the Winston-Watson connection. He'll handle the rest."
"What about the families?" Matteo asked. "We can't rely solely on a journalist. What if he decides not to publish? What if it takes too long?"
"We hedge our bets," Sandro said. "Luca contacts the journalist. I simultaneously prepare anonymous packages for the Castellano, Romano, and DeLuca families.
If Valentino doesn't publish within forty-eight hours, we send the packages directly.
But if he does publish first, we hold back and let the story develop naturally. Either way, Winston goes down."
"And Agent Watson?" I asked.
"Internal Affairs gets a copy too. Anonymous tip about an agent compromising investigations through improper relationships with organized crime figures. The emails prove it. Even if they try to bury it, the damage will be done."
It was a good plan. Multilayered. Redundant. The kind of strategy that accounted for variables and protected us from exposure.
"One more thing," Julian said quietly. "When this breaks, my father will know I was involved. Even if he can't prove it. He'll know. The timing, the specificity of the information, the fact that I'm missing—he'll put it together."
"Will that be a problem?" Sandro asked.
"For him? Yes. For me?" Julian met my eyes briefly. "No. I'm committed to this. To staying here. To being part of this world. Whatever consequences come from that, I'll handle them."
The certainty in his voice made something warm move through my chest.
"Then we're agreed," Sandro said. "Luca handles the journalist. I prepare contingency packages. We execute within the hour. Everyone clear?"
We all nodded.
The meeting ended. Luca left immediately to make contact with Valentino. Matteo and Sandro stayed to finalize details. Julian and I went back to my office.
"Are you okay?" I asked when the door closed behind us.
"Yes. No. I don't know." Julian sat in the chair across from my desk. "I just helped orchestrate the destruction of my father's empire. I should feel something other than relief, right?"
"There's no right way to feel about this. He's your father. It's complicated."
"He tried to sell me to a man who hurt me.
Refused to protect me when I needed protection.
Chose political alliances over his own son.
He stopped being my father a long time ago.
" Julian's voice was steady. Certain. "But it's still strange.
Knowing that in a few hours, everything he built will start crumbling. That I'm the one who made it happen."
I moved around the desk. Pulled Julian up and into my arms. He came willingly, pressing his face against my shoulder.
"You did the right thing," I said quietly. "Protecting yourself isn't betrayal. It's survival."
"I know. I just—" He pulled back to look at me. "Thank you. For being here. For making this bearable."
I kissed him. Soft and sweet. "Come on. Let's go back to my apartment. You need rest. Tomorrow's going to be intense once this breaks."
"I don't want to sleep alone."
"You won't. You're staying with me."
***
Valentino Russo published his exposé six hours later.
The headline was perfect: "FBI Agent's Corrupt Alliance with Chicago Crime Family Exposed: Years of Illegal Intelligence Sharing Documented."
The article was thorough. Detailed. Devastating. Valentino had verified everything independently, tracked down additional sources, built a case that was airtight. He'd even gotten quotes from unnamed federal officials confirming the investigation into Agent Rebecca Watson had been opened.
The reaction was immediate and violent.
Within hours, the Castellano family issued a statement condemning Winston Bianchi as a traitor. They'd been one of the families whose operations he'd sold out to the FBI. Their anger was personal. Visceral.
The Romano family—Stefan's old family—went further. Giuseppe Romano publicly declared that any association with the Bianchis was severed. Anyone doing business with Winston would be considered an enemy. Ironic, considering we knew they had considerable fed ties themselves.
The DeLuca family in Boston sent representatives to New York demanding answers. Wanting to know what information Winston had provided about their operations.
Winston's protection evaporated overnight. Associates who'd been loyal for decades distanced themselves. Business partners refused his calls. Protection details disappeared.
By the third day, Winston fled to FBI custody for survival. It was that or face execution by one of the families he'd betrayed.
His empire crumbled within a week.
The Bianchi operations in Chicago fell apart as soldiers defected or were absorbed by rival families. Assets were seized. Territory was claimed. Everything Winston had built over thirty years dissolved like it had never existed.
Agent Rebecca Watson fared no better. The FBI opened an internal investigation within hours of the article's publication. She was suspended immediately. Her entire case history was reviewed. Every conviction she'd secured was questioned.
The investigation into the Vitales—the one that had nearly destroyed us during the RICO trial—fell apart completely. Without Watson and Winston's cooperation, the federal case had no foundation. Agents were reassigned. Evidence was reexamined. The entire operation shut down.
Sandro called a meeting to discuss the fallout.
"Winston's finished," he said, satisfaction clear in his voice. "He's in federal protective custody but he'll never leave it. The moment he steps outside, one of the families will kill him. His empire's gone. His reputation's destroyed. He's alive but powerless. Exactly what Julian predicted."
"And Watson?" I asked.