The city felt different after Pier 17.
News helicopters circled the skyline of New York City. Headlines screamed about organized crime, illegal weapons, and escalating gang warfare. Politicians demanded action. Police patrols doubled overnight.
Exactly as Matteo Caruso intended.
Inside the Moretti estate, tension crackled like static before lightning.
Vittorio slammed a newspaper onto the long dining table.
"Pier 17," he barked. "Weapons. Explosions. Police everywhere."
Luca remained calm. "It was staged."
"You were there," Vittorio snapped.
The room went silent.
Don Alessandro sat at the head of the table, watching Luca carefully.
"Yes," Luca admitted. "I was there."
Murmurs erupted.
"And so was Anthony Russo," Vittorio added sharply. "Explain that."
Luca held his uncle's gaze.
"If I wanted war," Luca said evenly, "Anthony would already be dead."
Vittorio scoffed. "Or maybe you're negotiating behind our backs."
The accusation hung heavy.
Don Alessandro finally spoke.
"Enough."
Silence fell instantly.
He looked at Luca. "Tell me what you believe."
Luca stepped forward.
"Caruso orchestrated Pier 17. He tipped off the police. He wants us exposed and divided."
"And the Russos?" the Don asked.
"They're being played the same way we are."
The room shifted uncomfortably.
Don Alessandro leaned back slightly.
"If this is true," he said slowly, "then Matteo Caruso is not testing us."
He paused.
"He's challenging us."
Across the river in Staten Island, Anthony faced similar suspicion.
"You were seen fleeing the docks," one of his father's capos said.
"And you weren't?" Anthony replied coldly.
Don Rafael Russo raised his hand.
"Enough."
He studied his son.
"You met Moretti again."
Anthony didn't deny it.
"Caruso is escalating," Anthony said firmly. "He wants federal intervention."
"And you trust Moretti?" his father asked.
"No," Anthony answered honestly. "But I trust survival."
Don Rafael stood and walked toward the window overlooking the water.
"For decades, this city has balanced on fear and respect," he said quietly. "If Caruso disrupts that balance…"
"He takes everything," Anthony finished.
His father nodded once.
"Very well. Continue your… communication."
Anthony blinked in surprise.
"But understand this," Don Rafael added sharply. "If Luca betrays you, you end him."
Meanwhile, in a private penthouse overlooking Midtown, Matteo Caruso poured himself a glass of red wine.
On the table before him were photographs.
Luca and Anthony meeting.
Surveillance stills from the café.
The overpass.
Pier 17.
"You see?" Matteo said calmly to his lieutenant. "Pressure creates alliances."
"And if they grow stronger together?" the lieutenant asked nervously.
Matteo smiled faintly.
"Then we apply more pressure."
He slid a new file across the table.
Inside: a map of critical infrastructure across New York City.
Power substations.
Transit hubs.
Financial districts.
The lieutenant swallowed.
"That's extreme."
Matteo's eyes hardened.
"Revolutions always are."
Later that night, Luca met Anthony beneath the shadow of an abandoned rail yard.
"This is bigger than territory," Luca said.
Anthony nodded grimly. "My father gave conditional approval."
"Mine too."
They stood facing each other, no longer just heirs—but decision-makers.
"We need proof," Anthony said. "Something undeniable."
Luca considered.
"Caruso is meeting someone tomorrow," he said quietly. "A supplier. High-level."
Anthony's eyes sharpened. "Location?"
"Midtown. Private building. Heavy security."
Anthony exhaled slowly.
"Then we don't attack."
Luca tilted his head slightly.
"We observe."
A beat passed.
"And if we get confirmation?" Anthony asked.
Luca's voice was steady.
"Then we stop reacting."
The wind rattled loose metal nearby.
For the first time, their alliance felt less fragile.
Not trust.
But alignment.
High above the city, Detective Isabella Reyes reviewed her informant's intel.
Caruso meeting confirmed.
Midtown location secured.
But something about the timing unsettled her.
Too visible.
Too bold.
She stared at the glowing skyline of New York City outside her office window.
"If I were planning a takeover," she murmured, "I'd want everyone watching one direction…"
Her eyes widened slightly.
"…while I moved in another."
Her phone rang.
Another explosion reported.
This time—Queens.
Moretti territory.
She felt it immediately.
This wasn't escalation.
This was distraction.
Back in Midtown, Matteo Caruso checked his watch.
"Begin," he said calmly.
Across the city, coordinated chaos erupted.
Small attacks.
Strategic fires.
Financial panic.
Police stretched thin.
While every camera pointed toward smoke and sirens…
A quiet convoy of black vehicles moved toward a power substation on the edge of Brooklyn.
If the grid went down—
The city would fall into darkness.
And darkness was where empires were born.
Far below the glittering skyline of New York City, the true move had begun.