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The silence in the dining room stretched, thick and suffocating, wrapping around the silver candelabras and the crystal wine glasses. The twelve guests—capos, politicians, and men who laundered money through legitimate shell companies—sat perfectly still, their eyes darting anywhere but the head of the table.
Laurel Varelli did not rub her cheek. She simply let her hand fall back to her side, the emerald cut diamond on her finger catching the light of the…