Everything I'd earned through my own business. By the old arrangement between our families, it all belonged to the Castellano household. Elena tossed me half without a second thought. She was just like my brother. She looked down on every cent I'd made.
I secured a license for a trade route along the southern waterfront and started an operation on the river.
After that public beating in broad daylight, almost no one in Kingsport dared work for me anymore.
I had no choice but to hire workers from out of town.
Emilio, on the other hand, had it easy. With a Castellano daughter backing him up, he had leverage I didn't. Workers were conscripted and forced to labor under his command. But at two copper coins a month, people started fleeing before long. Some disguised themselves as out-of-towners and came to work on my shipment crews instead.
With no one left at the compound, the operations running under Elena Castellano's name had no product to move. Emilio couldn't even put food on the table.
That was the day he showed up with soldiers. All of them under Elena's authority.
He stared at my massive cargo convoy, a sneer curling his lips.
"Seize it."
I stepped in front of him.
"Brother, how can you be so unreasonable?"
He scoffed.
"If you hadn't been out here throwing money around and disrupting the market, the Don's daughter's operations would never have failed! Buying loyalty with coin. You've dragged the Ferraro name through the mud! The only way to stop you from lining your own pockets is to hand all this cargo over to me."
He was about to give the order again. I blocked his path.
"Brother, this is my cargo. My operation. You ran yours into the ground, so now you come to steal mine?"
"Steal?" He sneered. "I'm simply purifying your soul, little brother. Do it."
"No!"
I scrambled to stop them.
Elena's voice cut through the air.
"Hold him down."
My men and I were slammed to the ground at the same time. Every last unit of product I'd hauled all the way from the Southern Docks was seized under Emilio's name.
He looked at the emptied convoy and smiled coldly.
"Brother, why must you insist on working against me?"
I said nothing.
"Men, torch the trucks. Make sure Angelo Ferraro never moves product again."
"Yes, sir!"
"I dare you."
I smiled. "Open the seal."
One of my crew yanked the tarp off the lead vehicle's cargo frame.
Four words blazed under the floodlights: COMMISSION-PROTECTED SHIPMENT.