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

By 6:00 A.M., the Costa mansion was plunged into staged chaos.

Dr. Julian, Vincenzo’s personal physician who had been on his payroll for fifteen years, arrived with blue emergency lights flashing across the wet driveway. Two armed guards sealed the front gates, refusing to allow press or staff to leave the grounds.

In the master suite on the second floor, Evelyn stood by the window, wringing her hands with practiced grief.

“Is he going to be okay, Doctor?” Evelyn cried softly, dabbing at her dry eyes with a silk handkerchief. “He was fine when we went to bed! He just... he couldn't wake up this morning!”

Dr. Julian emerged from behind the heavy velvet curtains surrounding the grand four-poster bed. He looked grim, his stethoscope draped around his neck.

“He is in a deep coma, Miss Kensington,” Dr. Julian announced in a low, somber voice. “His heart rate is dangerously low. It appears to be sudden organ failure brought on by severe stress—likely linked to the financial collapse he announced last night.”

Evelyn turned away toward the window to hide the massive, triumphant smile spreading across her face.

“Oh, how terrible!” she sobbed. “What will happen to his estate? What will happen to his business?”

“Until he recovers—or passes—management of his personal affairs falls to his legal power of attorney,” Dr. Julian stated smoothly. “Which, according to his last will, requires his fiancée and his chief financial officer to sign off on all transfers.”

In the shadow of the hallway, Beatrice stood holding a stack of clean towels, her head bowed in respect.