Power was loud.
Legitimacy was silent.
And silence, Luke had learned while wearing Michael Corleone's life like a second skin, was the final language of victory.
The Immobiliare Boardroom in Rome did not look like a battlefield.
There were no guns.
No threats.
No raised voices.
Only polished wood, crystal water glasses, and men who believed history could still be bent in their favor.
Seven seats.
One decision.
And the end of an era.
Michael Corleone entered without entourage.
No Vincent.
No Shadows.
No lawyers whispering at his shoulder.
Just a thin man in a dark suit—older, quieter, unmistakably finished with violence.
The men around the table shifted.
They remembered who he had been.
But they were here to judge who he was.
Luke felt the System hum faintly—no purchase, no intervention.
This chapter had to be won as a man.
Not as a weapon.
The Chairman cleared his throat."We are here to vote on the final restructuring of Immobiliare."
A banker from Milan spoke first."The proposal transfers all questionable holdings into verified institutions—Swiss National Trust, Morgan Guaranty, Deutsche Bundesbank affiliates."
Another added, "And redistributes legacy shares to direct heirs under full tax compliance."
A pause.
Then the question everyone had been circling.
"And the Corleone funds?"
All eyes turned to Michael.
He did not hesitate.
"They are already gone," he said calmly.
A murmur rippled.
"Gone?" Archbishop Gilday asked sharply.
Michael met his gaze without hostility. "Cleansed. Audited. Re-registered. There is no blood left in them."
Luke let the truth stand bare.
Not defensive.
Not apologetic.
Final.
A Swiss banker adjusted his glasses. "You are asking us to believe that a criminal fortune has become legitimate."
Michael nodded. "No. I am telling you it no longer belongs to criminals."
Silence.
Then one board member spoke quietly.
"I've reviewed the ledgers."
Another followed. "So have I."
A third. "There is nothing to indict."
One by one, heads nodded.
The old money had been burned away—not hidden, not laundered, but abandoned.
Ash left behind.
The Chairman raised his pen."All in favor of full legitimization, effective immediately?"
Hands rose.
One.
Two.
Three.
Four.
Five.
Six.
Only Archbishop Gilday remained still.
His eyes searched Michael's face.
"You could have kept control," he said. "Through fear."
Michael shook his head. "Fear ends in funerals."
Gilday exhaled slowly… and raised his hand.
Six to one.
The vote passed.
The room did not erupt.
No applause followed.
History rarely announced itself.
A clerk stamped the documents.
The era of Blood Money ended with ink, not bullets.
From that moment forward:
Every Immobiliare share was legitimate
Every Corleone holding was transparent
Every heir was clean
The name Corleone was no longer a threat.
It was a signature.
As Michael stood to leave, one of the younger board members asked, almost respectfully:
"What will you do now?"
Michael paused.
Luke felt the weight of every life lived in shadow.
"Nothing," Michael said.
Then, softer: "That's the point."
Outside, Rome moved on.
Cars passed.
Tourists laughed.
The world did not notice that a ghost had finally chosen to disappear.
Michael walked alone into the afternoon light.
Behind him lay ash—
Burned titles.
Burned sins.
Burned histories that would never be spoken aloud.
Ahead lay only time.
And peace.
The System confirmed quietly:
Primary Wish: FulfilledSecondary Wishes: FulfilledHidden Wish: Fulfilled
Die without being misunderstood.
Michael Corleone had not died.
But his curse had.
And Luke knew—
This was the cleanest ending any gangster's story had ever received.