Three months had passed.
In that time, Giovanni Moretti, only 19 years old, had gone from an ambitious young man to a feared boss. His crew had grown: from a core of ten loyal men, he now led a unit of fifteen — trained, disciplined, and well-paid. Everyone knew Giovanni never broke a promise — and never forgave betrayal.
During that period, his men had carried out successful protection rackets, collecting between $400 and $500 weekly per protected store. In an era when a laborer earned $20 to $30 a week, Giovanni could afford to pay his men $80 to $100 per week, making them feel like princes in a world of paupers.
But his goal went beyond business: he wanted to send a clear message to the Gypsies of the East Side who had dared step into Moretti territory.
The Objective: Destroy the Gypsy Gang
For months, the Gypsies led by Janko "the Red," a well-organized ethnic gang, had been stealing alcohol, extorting shops under mafia protection, and openly challenging the authority of the three major capos: Donato Greco, Giuseppe Rinaldi, and Giovanni's uncle, Luca Moretti.
Giovanni didn't ask for permission. He acted.
The Operation Plan
The chosen night was a rainy, dark Wednesday. He gathered his fifteen men and divided them into three groups:
Group A (led by Salvatore Greco): eliminate lookouts, cut communications, and control escape routes.
Group B (led by Giovanni): infiltrate and silently eliminate key hideouts and members.
Group C (led by Franco Bellomo): intercept and secure the external perimeter.
The mission was clear: kill, steal, destroy.
The Initial Attack
Armed with knives, crowbars, ropes, and clubs, they infiltrated the East Side alleys where the Gypsies usually hid. Within a couple of hours, more than twelve gang members were dead without a single gunshot.
The bodies were hidden or dumped in rivers. Giovanni demanded cleanliness.
Assault on the Three Dens
At 1:37 AM, all hell broke loose. Three Gypsy dens — hidden behind illegal betting houses and disguised bars — were assaulted simultaneously.
Gray Bridge Den: Giovanni and his men entered through the back. Three bursts from Tommy guns cleared the room. They found $4,800 in cash, plus three gold watches and several rings.
Delancey Street Den: Salvatore led the assault. Nine were killed, including one of Janko's lieutenants. The place was looted: $5,200 in cash, plus jewelry and necklaces kept for high-stakes bets.
Carmine Street Den: Tommaso Vieri and his team set the place ablaze after killing eight enemies. They recovered $3,000 in cash and chips, along with important documents.
Estimated Total Loot: $13,000 in clean cash.
Giovanni smiled as he counted the money.
—And now… we make it personal.
Assault on the Homes of the Dead Gypsy Capos
The Gypsy capos killed that night lived close to the dens, in humble-looking houses with rich interiors. Giovanni had three addresses:
Zarko "the Old Man's" house – hidden behind a laundromat.
Emil Drom's house – a fake watch repair shop.
Bodgan Maros' house – on the second floor of a tavern.
The groups broke in by force. In the three homes they found:
Safes holding more than $2,000 in extra cash.
Jewelry, watches, small gold bars, old coins, documents listing bribed officials, smuggling routes, and pending payments.
Franco Bellomo cracked two safes; the third he blew up with dynamite, taking part of the wall with it.
Final Loot: $15,000, plus jewels, documents, and power.Enough money to cover over 20 years of a worker's wages, all secured in a single night. Giovanni paid each of his men $250 — the equivalent of three months' salary for a common laborer.
The rest of the funds were hidden in three locations: a fake bakery, a betting joint under Luca Moretti's control, and an abandoned boarding house on Mulberry Street.
The Fire
Before retreating, Giovanni gave the final order:
—I want the city to know this fire isn't an accident. It's punishment.
The three homes and dens burned that dawn. Flames lit up the East Side while the rain evaporated the smoke into black columns. After the massacre at the Gypsy dens, Giovanni and his men didn't linger. They knew the police would smell the smoke soon enough, so with their pockets full of blood-stained cash and stolen jewels, they retreated swiftly through the wet alleys of Delancey Street, crossing into Orchard Street, where a humble-looking Italian bakery hid a back room perfectly suited for discreet meetings.
There, in the heart of the Lower East Side, between moldy walls and dim lights, Giovanni placed the bundles of bloodied money and the Gypsy capos' jewels on an oak table. The loot was significant: fifteen thousand dollars in cash and a handful of gold pocket watches, heavy chains, and rings with precious stones. Enough to keep his crew funded for months… or to buy half a dozen loyalties.
One by one, his soldiers entered the backroom, their faces hidden by shadows cast by a single hanging lamp. Some chuckled under their breath; others couldn't take their eyes off the money.
—This city is changing, —said Giovanni firmly, looking at the ten men who now answered to him directly—. Today we buried a family. Tomorrow, we might create a new one.
Salvatore Greco, sitting in the back with arms crossed, nodded with respect. That hit wasn't just a territorial victory — it was a declaration: the Morettis had officially claimed the Gypsy part of the Lower East Side.
The Sitdown
In the private room of a restaurant hidden behind a dusty storefront on Grand Street, Giovanni stood before the three capos of the Moretti family. At the far end, a towering figure smoked in silence: Salvatore "Il Padrino" Greco, the undisputed patriarch and head of the organization, his brow furrowed and eyes hidden beneath the shadow of his wide-brimmed hat.
—So, you killed half a hundred Gypsies during a truce? —asked Donato Greco. His tone wasn't angry — it was coldly evaluative. His son, Salvatore, sat to his right, silently observing Giovanni.
—The truce wasn't broken, padrino, —Giovanni replied firmly, without raising his voice—. They broke it first — hiding weapons and preparing an ambush against us. We just acted first. It was a matter of survival… and strategy.
On the table, Giovanni dropped a black bag bearing a liquor store's logo. When opened, stacks of cash were revealed. $7,500 in cash. Exactly half the loot.
—Family first, always, —said Giovanni—. My men risked their lives, but I know who I owe my position to.
There was a brief silence. Then Luca Moretti, one of the oldest caporegime, nodded with a touch of pride.
—Spoken like a true loyal man. Loyalty like yours is rare these days.
Donato crossed his arms. Then looked to his brother, underboss Giuseppe Rinaldi, who gave a slight nod of approval.
—What do you want in return, Giovanni? —asked the Don at last.
—Permission to control part of the territory we took. Not all of it. Just the area near Rivington Street, where we already had a presence… I want to develop our collection points, protection, and gambling operations there.
The padrino stared at him for a long moment. Finally, with a slight tilt of the head, he spoke:
—The former Gypsy territory will be divided into three:
Half will be incorporated into our family — under the direct control of Luca and Rinaldi.
The other 50% will be split between the Cardenas and the Kovalenkos, the other two gangs that share the Lower East Side. We don't want open war… and everyone must see we're fair, even when we take something by force.
Salvatore Greco, the 22-year-old heir, was the only one to speak after the decision:
—If you had failed, you'd be dead right now. But you triumphed. This is a warning to everyone in Manhattan. There's a young Moretti who's not afraid to get his hands dirty.
Giovanni looked at him and nodded without arrogance. He knew he had just earned more than land and business: he had earned real respect — in the room where the future is decided.