Jonas glanced at Sean and said, "The Tonito sent a message asking to see you."
Sean raised an eyebrow, surprised. "See me? What does he want? How's he been these days? I heard there's been a lot of fighting between your groups."
Jonas shrugged. "Tony's men have raided Acomo's properties a few times and killed a few people, but no significant losses."
Sean shook his head, unimpressed. "What a waste. Just tell him I don't have time. You can talk to him and find out what he wants."
Sean couldn't understand why these guys thought they were so important. They acted like they deserved a personal audience without considering their actual standing.
"People around here are delusional," he thought. "They can't see reality and have no idea where their confidence comes from. It's the same with the old money—the so-called Mafia families. Those who barely exist in New Jersey cling to their outdated traditions, only accepting Italians... It's absurd. The Mafia has been around for just a few years, yet they think they're 'old.'"
Sean had always dismissed these characters as laughable.
"Where is Sean?" Tony asked, frowning as he looked past Jonas.
Jonas felt the sting of being ignored but maintained his composure. "Mr. Sean is a serious businessman and has nothing to do with your affairs," he replied bluntly.
Tony's eyes widened in disbelief. "A businessman? Everyone knows who he really is! Are you saying he's just pretending?"
Jonas remained unfazed. "I can't emphasize enough that Sean wants no part in this."
Calming down, Tony said, "I need you to deal with the Apple family. If you help me take them out, I'll allow your smuggled wine into our market."
It was clear Tony had come prepared, knowing Sean's interest in the wine trade. After all, Sean had wiped out the Salamanga crew, motivated by the smuggling business.
Jonas hesitated, almost agreeing. He understood why Sean had provoked the Dimio crime group—it was all about bootlegging. While outsiders might see it as a losing venture compared to drugs, Jonas knew better. The profit margins on counterfeit goods could be immense, especially with Sean's recent acquisition of a blending master from Chinatown, making their wines even more appealing.
Still, Jonas held back. "You have no idea how much profit is made from bootleg wine. It's a delicate matter, and we can't just step in."
Tony considered this, then continued, "I know Sean has opened several gyms. If you help us, I can guarantee smooth entry into other cities."
Without hesitation, Jonas stood up. "We will not get involved in your internal struggles. Mr. Tony, please leave. You are not welcome here."
Tony's anger flared. "When Dimio reshuffles the cards, you'll regret this! If you need ammunition, I can sell you a batch. Your firepower is... lacking."
Jonas sneered. "Boss, times have changed. Your firepower is stuck in the past—like something from Chicago fifty years ago. Even the Africans have moved on."
He leaned in closer to Tony, whispering, "Don't think you can avoid trouble. If things escalate, it won't matter to you if you lose."
With a dramatic gesture, Jonas spread his arms. "There's no problem that can't be solved with one RPG shot. If there is, just fire two!"
He gestured for a phone call. "Think about it and call me."
As he walked away, Tony couldn't shake the image of Jonas with his arms outstretched, symbolizing the outdated mindset of the Mafia, which had remained stagnant for so long. The establishment of the Disciplinary Committee under Charlie Luciano had enforced a low-profile approach, leading to a restriction on heavy firepower. But now, with that control weakened, Jonas's words echoed in Tony's mind.
"Acomo, your people are too careless," a voice said, frustration evident. "Someone's been framing me. The Soprano family won't believe your claims, and neither will anyone else."
Acomo sneered. "Now you see who's really behind this."
"You might be right, but I need you to investigate."
"Honestly, it's challenging. We still don't know how they caused two tires to explode simultaneously."
Acomo held back his anger, taking a deep breath. "I still need your help with that batch of goods. You know how important it is. Those junkies can't be left hanging."
"Same old terms?" Acomo asked.
"Of course," came the reply. Acomo hung up the phone.
In a vehicle parked near the police station, two operatives exchanged glances. "I know what this is about. I've helped them transport goods before."
"Let's report this up the chain," one suggested.
Armstrong, having received the news, smiled. "Wait. I'll send someone to assist you. This is a big opportunity. Make sure to capture video evidence of their transaction. Our month's bonus depends on it."
"Understood," the operative replied, excitement creeping into his voice.
After hanging up, Armstrong grabbed his coat, eager to head to Trenton. He felt the thrill of the chase surge through him as he planned the follow-up operation. This could be the break they needed, a chance to make a name for themselves and bring down a significant player in the underground trade.
As he drove, thoughts raced through his mind about how to orchestrate the perfect sting. He envisioned the moment they caught Acomo and his associates red-handed, the satisfaction of finally exposing their illegal dealings to the light of day.
Back at the Dimio hideout, Sean remained oblivious to the brewing storm. He was focused on his business, the gym operations thriving, and his wine trade poised for expansion. He had chosen a path away from the chaos of crime families, preferring the stability that legitimate business provided.
However, the tendrils of the underworld were never far away. The message from Tony lingered in the back of his mind. He knew that sooner or later, he would have to confront the reality of his connections, whether he wanted to or not.
In the shadows, as factions maneuvered for power, Sean's reputation as a businessman—and a player in the underground—would be tested. The question remained: could he maintain his distance from the escalating conflicts, or would he be drawn back into the fray, forced to navigate the dangerous waters of loyalty and betrayal?
As the sun set over the city, both Sean and Tony prepared for the inevitable clash of interests that would reshape their world once more. The undercurrents of ambition and survival were strong, and in this game, there were no guarantees.