The Mafia boss hadn’t slept peacefully in three years, until his housekeeper’s toddler walked into his bedroom and did what every doctor had failed to do

By 2:00 PM, Adrian sat at the head of the massive mahogany conference table in the estate’s private library.

Dominic was sitting opposite him, presenting the quarterly financial projections for Moretti Logistics to four senior members of the syndicate’s advisory board.

Adrian intentionally slumped in his high-backed leather chair. He let his right hand tremble slightly as he held his pen, dropping it onto the wooden surface with a soft clatter.

Dominic paused his presentation immediately, adopting a look of profound, fraternal concern.

"Adrian," Dominic said softly, looking around the table at the elderly board members. "Perhaps we should pause. You look exhausted today. The board understands if you need to rest in your quarters."

Elderly Director Vance nodded grimly. "Dominic is right, Adrian. You've carried this family for ten years, but your health is clearly failing. The shipping contracts with the European cartels require sharp, immediate decisions. Dominic can sign them on your behalf."

Adrian closed his eyes briefly, playing the part of the dying lion perfectly. "What contracts, Dominic?"

Dominic slid a three-hundred-page legal document across the table. "The merger with the Vane Syndicate in Rotterdam. It transfers sixty percent of our deep-water port authority to a joint holding company."

Adrian opened his eyes, scanning the signature page. Beneath the corporate language lay a hidden clause: once the transfer was completed, the chairman—Adrian—could be removed by a simple majority vote of the joint board due to physical medical incapacity.

It was the final piece of Dominic's trap. Once Adrian signed this document, Dominic would possess total legal control over the family's assets, making Adrian's impending "accidental" death completely irrelevant to the empire's continuity.

"I need to review the underlying logistics ledgers before I sign," Adrian said, his voice weak and raspy.

"The ledgers are locked in the central vault, brother," Dominic pressed smoothly, offering a pen. "The European representatives are waiting on the encrypted line right now. We sign now, or we lose the port."

Before Dominic could force the pen into Adrian's hand, the library door clicked open.

Clara walked in quietly carrying a silver serving tray, holding a porcelain teapot and two cups.

"Forgive the interruption, Mr. Moretti," Clara said respectfully, keeping her head low as she set the tray near Adrian. "Mrs. Ricci said you requested your afternoon herbal brew."

Dominic’s eyes flashed with annoyance at the housekeeper, but he quickly masked it. "Thank you, Clara. Set it down and leave us."

As Clara poured the tea, her body subtly blocked the board members' view. With a movement so fast and practiced it looked like magic, she used a tiny dropper hidden in her palm to release three drops of a clear liquid into Adrian's cup before stepping back.

It was the binding agent—a synthetic compound she had spent four hours synthesizing in Leo's mobile lab using the medical supplies from her old research contacts. It would bind to the N-22 toxin in Adrian's system, neutralizing its neurological impact while allowing the metabolic trace to pass harmlessly through his bloodstream.

Adrian raised the cup to his lips, taking a slow, deliberate sip under Dominic's watchful, hawk-like gaze.

"Delicious," Adrian murmured, his eyes locking onto Dominic's over the rim of the porcelain. "Give me until midnight to review the ledgers, Dominic. If my mind is clear, I will sign the merger at dawn."