“Your Fiancée Is A Thief,” The Maid’s Toddler Told The Mafia Boss—He Went Silent!

Julian Vance’s hand slowly reached under the desk.

*Bang!*

Dante drew his pistol with blinding speed, firing a single round straight through the center of the obsidian desk. The bullet tore through Julian’s right hand, shattering his wrist and pinning his concealed weapon against the underside of the desk.

Julian screamed in agony, clutching his mangled, bleeding hand to his chest, falling backward out of his leather throne.

“You savage!” Julian howled, his blood splattering across the pristine white marble. “You have no idea what you’ve started! The Grand Council in Rome... they will obliterate New York! They will burn your name from history!”

Dante walked around the desk, standing over the writhing aristocrat. He placed the heavy steel barrel of his .45 against Julian’s temple.

“Tell them Dante Moretti is coming for the crown,” Dante said coldly.

Julian stared up into Dante’s merciless gray eyes. For the first time in his life, the master manipulator realized he was not dealing with a puppet or a rival capo. He was dealing with a monster forged in the fire of survival.

“Wait... wait!” Julian gasped, choking on his own panic. “There is something you don’t know! Leo... your brother Leo didn't die in an ambush by the Russos!”

Dante’s finger paused on the trigger. The pressure did not decrease by a fraction of a millimeter. “Speak.”

“The council didn’t order Leo’s death!” Julian wheezed, sweat and blood dripping down his pale face. “It was someone inside your own house! Someone who sat at your father’s table! Someone who is still living inside the Moretti compound right now!”

Mateo, standing near the elevator, stiffened. His eyes widened. “Boss, he’s lying! He’s trying to buy time!”

Dante didn’t look back at Mateo. His eyes remained locked onto Julian’s terrified gaze. “Who was it?”

Julian spat blood onto his own lapels, grinning through the pain with a dying man’s sick triumph. “Ask the woman who brought the girl into your house. Ask Maria why she was the only survivor of the massacre in Palermo!”

*BANG.*

The gunshot rang out, shattering the silence of the glass penthouse. Julian Vance slumped back against the base of the wall, his eyes fixed blankly on the ceiling, the crimson pool expanding across the marble floor.

Dante lowered his smoking weapon. The room fell into a heavy, suffocating silence, broken only by the hum of the city lights outside.

Mateo walked forward cautiously. “Boss... was he telling the truth? Maria... she couldn't be—”