The heavy atmosphere in Alphonse Capone's office was thick with tension. The sound of his enraged shouts still hung in the air, reverberating off the dark wood-paneled walls. His brow furrowed as he slammed the telephone back onto its receiver, muttering curses under his breath.
Alphonse Capone, now 63 years old, was still a formidable figure in Chicago. His graying hair did little to diminish the fire in his eyes, nor the sheer authority he exuded in the room. He had weathered decades of chaos, building his empire piece by piece, and he wasn't about to be outwitted by anyone, especially not by some out-of-town supplier trying to hike up prices.
"I told you!!!" he had roared into the telephone moments earlier, his gravelly voice rising with frustration. "I could only take it for thirty thousand dollars, not a penny above it!"
The voice on the other end, unshaken by Alphonse's fury, had replied calmly, "We will think about it."
Alphonse's temper flared. "Fuck you! You think you're the only one who has those materials? It's your loss, you dumbass fucker!" His words came out in a furious growl as he slammed the phone down with a thud, the frustration radiating through his entire body.
Still seething, Alphonse leaned back in his leather chair, trying to regain control of his breathing. He knew he was on a deadline, and time was running out. Everything was about leverage in this business, and he wasn't about to be outmaneuvered.
Suddenly, a knock echoed through the room, disrupting his thoughts.
Alphonse's eyes darted toward the door, his irritation still palpable. "Who is it?" he barked, his voice sharp.
The door cracked open, and one of his trusted employees—a lean man with a nervous expression—poked his head inside. "Sir, it's one of the Felcoms family. The youngest of the Felcoms, Gil Felcoms."
Alphonse's anger quickly dissipated, replaced by a look of intrigue. Felcoms. The name stirred something in him. The Felcoms were one of the wealthiest families in New York, their name synonymous with power and influence on the East Coast. Their empire stretched across industries—shipping, finance, real estate—and their wealth was practically unmatched.
Alphonse straightened in his chair, his fingers drumming lightly on the desk. Gil Felcoms, the youngest of the family? he thought. This could be an opportunity. If there was any family worth forging an alliance with, it was the Felcoms. Connections with them could open doors Alphonse had only dreamed of, especially when it came to expanding his operations beyond Chicago.
"Hoh, Felcoms…" Alphonse muttered to himself, a smirk playing on his lips. The tension that had gripped his body earlier seemed to evaporate as he realized the significance of this meeting.
He had heard whispers about Gil Felcoms—a young man with a reputation for being intellegent, though still largely untested in the gritty world of underground dealings. (Why would someone like him come all the way to Chicago?) Alphonse wondered. But he didn't dwell on it too long. The fact that a Felcoms was stepping into his world was enough to warrant his full attention.
"Bring him in" Alphonse said, his tone shifting from rage to calculated interest. The change was immediate, as though he had flipped a switch in his mind. This wasn't just another meeting; this was an opportunity to establish a relationship that could benefit his empire.
The employee nodded and disappeared behind the door.
Alphonse adjusted his suit jacket, running a hand through his silver-streaked hair. He wasn't about to let this meeting slip through his fingers. He knew how to play the game of power, and if Gil Felcoms had come to him, it meant the young felcoms needed something.
Good, Alphonse thought, his smirk deepening. (That means I have leverage.)
Moments later, the door opened again, and in walked Gil Felcoms.
The young man entered with an air of quiet confidence, his tailored suit fitting perfectly over his tall, lean frame. His hair, dark brown and neatly styled, contrasted with his pale skin, and his eyes, sharp and calculating, quickly took in the room and Alphonse himself.
Alphonse studied him for a moment, sizing him up. Gil wasn't as imposing as the older members of the Felcom family, but there was something about him—a cold intelligence that hinted at a mind constantly working behind those cool, gray eyes.
"Mr. Capone," Gil said, extending a hand, his voice calm and composed. "Thank you for agreeing to meet with me."
Alphonse stood and took Gil's hand, his grip firm but not overbearing. "Of course, Mr. Felcoms. It's not every day a Felcoms walks through my door." His voice was smooth, a far cry from the fury that had filled the room just moments before. "Please, have a seat."
Gil smiled politely, taking a seat opposite Alphonse. "I'll get right to the point," he said, wasting no time. "My family is looking to expand some of our interests, and we've been hearing a lot about your operations here in Chicago."
Alphonse's eyes gleamed. This is it. He leaned forward slightly, his fingers steepling in front of him. "I'm all ears, Mr. Felcoms."
As Gil began to lay out his proposal, Alphonse listened intently, his mind already racing ahead to the possibilities. Whatever Gil had in mind, Alphonse knew one thing for certain—this meeting was just the beginning of something much bigger.
......
Lenore Van Ryn stood in the lavishly furnished room, surrounded by wealth and power, but there was a tension in the air that only she could feel. She glanced at the three teenagers in front of her. Chris Hilton, one of the wealthiest young men in the world, leaned casually against the back of a plush leather chair. His friends, Mark Fletcher and Loe Halloway, stood beside him, chatting quietly. Though they were only 18 years old, there was a certain maturity about them, a kind of poise that came with being born into immense privilege or so she thought.
Lenore, the only adult in the room, suddenly felt her mCall device vibrate in her pocket. She hesitated for a moment, glancing at Chris, wondering if she should take the call right then. But when she saw the name flashing on the screen, Alphonse Capone, she knew it was urgent. She needed to handle this carefully.
With a polite smile, she excused herself. "If you'll excuse me, dear sirs." she said in her practiced, elegant tone.
Chris nodded, his sharp blue eyes never leaving her face. "You may." he said simply, his voice cool but respectful. Even at his young age, Chris Hilton understood the gravity of their meeting. Lenore was from the Chicago Outfit, a known powerhouse in underground dealings, and though her presence had a veneer of civility, he knew there were hidden agendas at play.
Mark Fletcher, standing at Chris's side, narrowed his eyes slightly. (Is she calling Alphonse?) Mark thought, trying to read Lenore's body language. (If so, what does he want?) It didn't sit right with him. Lenore was too composed, too distant—Mark had seen this before in people who had something to hide.
Loe Halloway, the most laid-back of the trio, folded his arms across his chest and watched Lenore's retreating figure. He felt his stomach knot slightly. (Is Alphonse ordering her to spy on us?) Loe had always been the observer one, though most would never suspect it. His sharp mind never stopped calculating, and he didn't trust Lenore as far as he could throw her.
As Lenore stepped into a quiet corner of the room, just out of earshot, she pressed the button on her mCall device and heard the familiar gravelly voice of Alphonse Capone on the other end.
"Hello, sir?" she said, keeping her voice low.
"Get moving," Alphonse growled. "A Felcoms came here just moments ago."
Lenore's eyes widened slightly. (A Felcoms? That was big news. The Felcoms were one of the most powerful and wealthy families in New York, rivals to the many businesses in many ways. This changed everything.)
"What?" Lenore asked, trying to keep the surprise from her voice.
"I need you to entertain him for a while," Alphonse said, his tone sharp. "Gil Felcoms is in the city. We need to make a strong impression."
Lenore frowned, her brow furrowing in concern. "But what about young Hilton?" she asked, casting another glance back at Chris and his friends. Chris was the heir to the Hilton family, one of the wealthiest in the world, with assets and influence far surpassing even the Felcoms. His family's power was undeniable, and Lenore had been working hard to cultivate a connection, hoping to gain their favor for the Chicago Outfit's ambitions.
"I know the Hiltons are bigger fish." Alphonse said impatiently. "But the Felcoms have given us an offer, and Do you really think the Hiltons will give us anything? They're just testing us right now, nothing guaranteed. But the Felcoms? They're 100 percent guaranteed to help us expand into New York. We can't lose this chance."
Lenore paused, considering his words. It was true—Chris Hilton, despite his immense wealth, was still just a boy, barely out of high school. The Hiltons had been testing the waters with the Chicago Outfit for years, but they had never fully committed. The Felcoms, on the other hand, were offering something concrete.
Lenore's frustration grew. "What offer?" she asked, needing more details to justify abandoning her current strategy.
"That's not for you to worry about." Alphonse snapped. "Just come here and help keep the Felcoms entertained. We need this alliance, Lenore."
She bit her lip, torn between her duty and her current company. "What should I say to the Hiltons?" she asked, glancing back at Chris, who was now laughing softly with Mark and Loe.
Alphonse's response was dismissive. "Leave him for now. He's just an eighteen-year-old boy. I bet he just wants to hang out with his friends anyway. You've done enough to butter him up for today. Focus on what matters."
Lenore sighed internally. Alphonse always thought of people as pawns, and it was no different with the Hiltons. But she knew better. Chris was young, yes, but he wasn't naive. He would notice her absence, and it might send the wrong message. Still, Alphonse had given her an order, and she couldn't ignore it.
"I'll head over now." she said finally.
"Good." Alphonse replied before hanging up abruptly.
Lenore took a deep breath and collected herself. She couldn't afford to look rattled in front of Chris or his friends. She adjusted her coat and turned back toward the trio, who were lounging casually in their private corner, chatting among themselves.
Chris Hilton glanced up as Lenore approached. His sharp blue eyes, a hallmark of his family's icy control over their vast empire, observed her curiously.
"Is everything alright?" Chris asked, his tone neutral, but his eyes sharp.
"Yes," Lenore said with a polite smile. "I'm afraid I have some business to attend to. Please, enjoy yourselves. I'll return shortly."
Mark Fletcher, always more cautious than Chris, was also watching her closely, his brows furrowed in thought. He's already wondering if this is about Alphonse, Lenore thought grimly. He's sharp.
Loe, the most laid-back of the three, simply shrugged. "Sup, you done?"
Lenore forced a smile. "Yes, thank you for waiting, gentlemen." She hesitated for a fraction of a second, knowing that this was the moment she had to make her exit. "Unfortunately, I've been called away on urgent business. Something has come up, and I'm afraid I won't be able to stay."
Chris raised an eyebrow, his expression neutral but his eyes keen. "Something more important than our meeting, Ms. Van Ryn?"
Lenore tilted her head slightly. "Not more important, just more urgent," she replied smoothly. "I trust that we'll have the opportunity to continue our discussions soon."
Chris nodded slowly, clearly not thrilled, but he wasn't going to press the issue. "Of course." he said, though the underlying coldness in his tone was hard to miss.
Mark, however, didn't let it go. "Are you sure this has nothing to do with someone?" he asked, his voice carefully measured.
Lenore paused. (Sharp indeed) she thought. But she couldn't let them know too much. She gave Mark a polite smile. "I'm afraid I'm not at liberty to discuss business details, Mr. Fletcher. But rest assured, my priority is always ensuring that our partnerships are beneficial for everyone involved."
Mark's eyes lingered on her for a moment longer before he nodded, accepting her answer, even if he didn't believe it.
"Safe travels, Ms. Van Ryn." Loe said, giving her a lazy wave. He didn't seem to care much either way on the surface, but inside, his thoughts were elsewhere. The truth was, the only thing Loe truly cared about was Alphonse Capone. His easygoing demeanor hid a deeper, burning resolve—Loe wanted to defeat Alphonse, to bring the notorious mob boss down once and for all.
"Thank you." Lenore replied before turning on her heel and leaving the room. As she walked out into the crisp Chicago air, her mind was already racing ahead to the meeting with Gil Felcoms. She had to think on her feet now, navigate this new situation, and figure out exactly what the Felcoms were offering—and how she could use it to her advantage.
For now, the Hiltons would have to wait.
As Lenore left, Loe's nonchalant expression didn't change, but in his mind, the clock was ticking. He would face Alphonse soon, and he wouldn't rest until he had his answers.
To be continue