Mafia Boss's Twins Saw A Blind Woman With A Fierce Dog — Her Face Froze Them Instantly

The following afternoon, a high-level meeting of the Boston Syndicate Council was convened at a neutral location—a high-security penthouse overlooking the Charles River.

Paxton sat at the head of the polished marble conference table. To his right sat Gideon; to his left sat Sal Giordano. Across from them sat the leaders of the four major families that controlled Boston's shipping docks, distribution networks, and construction cartels.

Among them was Victor Vance—a wealthy, sharp-dressed man in his late fifties who commanded the West End logistics sector. Vance was a smooth talker with slicked-back silver hair and gold rings on every finger.

"You called an emergency summit, Paxton," Vance said, swirling a glass of scotch in his hand, his eyes narrow and calculating. "Word on the street is you’re sheltering a woman from Southie at your estate. A blind woman with a Neapolitan mastiff."

Paxton leaned back in his chair, his hands clasped over his stomach, his expression entirely unreadable. "What happens at my estate is my business, Vance."

"It becomes our business when Southie starts mobilizing their soldiers along the border," another boss, Marcus Kane, chimed in. "Dominic Brennan is claiming the woman stole assets belonging to the Brennan family. He’s threatening to cut off dock access if we don't hand her over."

"Dominic Brennan can go to hell," Sal spat out, his voice sharp with authority. "The woman is my granddaughter. Corsica Giordano. She is Celeste’s twin sister."

A heavy murmur rippled through the room.

Victor Vance’s hand froze mid-air, his scotch sloshing slightly against the glass before he quickly controlled his posture. "A twin? Nonsense. Celeste was an only child. We all knew her."

"She was hidden to protect her from the war thirty years ago," Paxton said, his voice dropping into a register of deadly calm. He leaned forward, placing both hands on the table. "And she brought back the missing piece of the Giordano family trust. The half of the watch my father-in-law held."

Vance’s eyes flickered with a sudden, dark calculation. "The Swiss fund? That money was supposed to be absorbed by the council if no legitimate heir claimed it by the end of this year!"

"Well, an heir has claimed it," Paxton said coldly. "And she is under the direct protection of the Marchetti family. Any man, from Southie or from this table, who makes a move against her will be treated as an enemy of my house."

Vance smiled smoothly, though his eyes remained as cold as ice. "Of course, Paxton. We all share your grief over Celeste. None of us wish harm upon her sister. But you must admit... her timing is remarkably convenient. Are you certain she is who she claims to be? Or is she an imposter trained by Southie to infiltrate your inner circle?"

Paxton stood up slowly, towering over the table. The sheer aura of danger surrounding him caused every boss in the room to tense up.

"If you ever question her bloodline again in my presence, Vance," Paxton said softly, every word laced with lethal intent, "I will cut your tongue out and feed it to her dog."

Vance’s smile vanished. He nodded once, stiffly. "Understood, Marchetti."

Ten minutes later, as the meeting adjourned and the bosses filtered out under the watchful eyes of armed guards, Gideon leaned into Paxton’s ear.

"Did you see Vance’s face when Sal mentioned the watch?" Gideon whispered. "He didn't look surprised that the watch existed. He looked furious that it had surfaced."

"Track his communications," Paxton ordered coldly, buttoning his jacket as they walked toward the elevator. "Vance has military contacts in the West End. He was the one who supplied the plastic explosives three years ago. I’d stake my life on it."