His Fiancée Ordered Flowers for the Paralyzed Mafia Boss’s Funeral While He Was Still Breathing, but the Maid Refused to Leave His Side

The tension in the estate grew suffocating over the next forty-eight hours. Vivian and Silas moved through the house like vultures circling a dying animal, their whispers echoing in the empty, luxurious hallways.

Maya became a ghost, slipping unseen into rooms just as they were vacated, checking trash cans and scanning abandoned documents.

Late Wednesday night, she hit gold.

Silas had been working in the estate's private office. When he left to take a phone call in the garden, Maya slipped inside. On his desk lay a thick manila folder. She quickly opened it, pulling out a small, disposable camera from her apron pocket—a tool Damian had provided her.

She snapped photos of the documents. It was a complete transfer of the Russo organization's assets. The shipping companies, the real estate holdings, and the offshore accounts were all being legally redirected to a newly formed holding company owned jointly by Vivian and Silas.

But the most damning piece of paper was at the bottom of the stack.

It was a medical directive. It stated that Damian’s mental faculties were declining due to his medication, giving Vivian full legal guardianship over his medical care.

Maya’s blood ran cold. If he signed that, Vivian could legally put him in a hospice facility and throw away the key.

She hurried back to Damian’s suite, locking the door behind her, and handed him the camera.

Damian reviewed the digital images, his jaw clenching so tight Maya thought his teeth might shatter.

"They’re moving faster than I anticipated," Damian muttered, tossing the camera onto the bed. "They know I still have loyalists in the city. They want to execute the legal transfer before my capos realize I'm not actually dying."

"What do we do?" Maya asked, standing close to his chair.

"We give them exactly what they want," Damian said, a dark, predatory smile slowly spreading across his face. "We let them think they’ve won. Because a thief is never more vulnerable than when they're counting their stolen money."

He looked up at Maya, his eyes softening just a fraction. "I need you to do exactly as I say tomorrow. It’s going to be dangerous."