The Mafia King Faked His Bankruptcy to Test His Fiancée—But the Maid Everyone Ignored Found the Poison Meant to Kill Him

The third-floor study was a fortress of dark leather, mahogany, and bulletproof glass.

Beatrice sat on the edge of a heavy leather sofa, her hands clasped in her lap, watching the digital clock on the desk tick past 2:15 A.M. The silence inside the room was absolute, insulated against the storm raging outside the mansion’s high stone walls.

At 2:40 A.M., the heavy brass lock clicked.

The door swung open, and Vincenzo walked in. He carried a silver tray with two fresh cups of tea and a small plate of biscuits. He set the tray on the low table between them, sat down in the armchair across from her, and poured a splash of milk into his cup.

“Is she... is she dead?” Beatrice asked softly, her voice barely a whisper.

“No,” Vincenzo replied, taking a slow sip of his tea. “I poured her poisoned espresso into the potted ficus in the hallway. By tomorrow morning, the leaves will be black. It’s a fast-acting neurological toxin derived from hemlock.”

He set his cup down and looked at her.

“I called my security chief, Luca. He’s already pulled the security footage from the hall outside the library. We have Evelyn on video taking the phone call, and we traced the burner phone to a safehouse owned by Adrian Rossi.”

Beatrice let out a breath she didn't realize she was holding. “So you're going to arrest her?”

Vincenzo laughed softly—a cold, dark sound.

“In my world, Beatrice, we don't call the police when someone tries to slip poison into our drink. We use their greed against them.”

He leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees. The faint scent of rain and cedar wood drifted toward her.

“My fake bankruptcy was supposed to end tonight,” Vincenzo said. “I was going to expose the traitors in my company and reclaim my accounts on Monday. But now... Evelyn thinks I drank that coffee. She thinks I'll be dead or paralyzed by morning.”