The Maid’s Three-Year-Old Dragged a Pink Suitcase Into the Mafia Boss’s Meeting, and Her Four Words Exposed the Man He Trusted Most

Damon sighed, reluctantly letting go of Selena’s waist.

“What is it, Marcus?”

“The capos are getting restless,” Marcus reported. “Victor’s death leaves a massive vacuum in the logistics chain. They want to know who is taking over the port access routes. They’re demanding a meeting.”

Damon’s jaw tightened. The business never stopped.

“Tell them to wait in the boardroom. I’ll be there in five minutes.”

Marcus nodded and disappeared back into the house.

Damon turned to Selena, brushing a stray curl behind her ear. “I have to handle this. It won't take long.”

“Go,” Selena smiled softly. “I’ll go check on Ruby.”

Damon walked into the boardroom five minutes later, dressed in a fresh, perfectly tailored charcoal suit. The remaining five advisers were sitting around the table, looking nervous and expectant. Victor’s empty chair sat at Damon’s right, a silent, chilling reminder of the price of treason.

Damon walked to the head of the table. He didn't sit down.

“Victor Lane was executed last night for high treason and colluding with the Sinaloa cartel,” Damon announced, his voice echoing with absolute authority. “His assets have been seized and distributed among the loyal families.”

The men nodded quickly in agreement. Nobody was going to mourn a traitor.

“But that leaves the question of the western ports,” one of the older capos ventured cautiously. “Who is managing the routes, Damon? We need a steady hand.”

“I am taking direct control of the western routes,” Damon stated, glaring at the man until he lowered his eyes. “There will be no more autonomous advisers operating in the shadows. Every shipment, every contract, every payoff goes through me. We are tightening our grip.”

The men exchanged nervous glances. Damon was consolidating his power, eliminating the democratic council his father had built. He was turning into a dictator.

“Furthermore,” Damon continued, placing his hands on the table. “There is a new protocol regarding the private estate. The West staff residence is being demolished.”

The men looked confused. What did a maid’s quarters have to do with cartel business?

“Selena Castillo and her daughter are no longer staff. They are under my personal, absolute protection,” Damon said, his eyes sweeping the room, daring anyone to challenge him. “If anyone looks at them wrong, speaks to them with disrespect, or breathes in their direction without my permission, you will end up exactly like Victor Lane.”

The silence in the boardroom was absolute.

“Are we clear?” Damon asked softly.